The Plague
by Linda Atkinson
Summary: After a demon caused plague kills most of the women of child bearing age men who are hermaphrodites become fertile and are mandated by the government to have a child. John/Bobby, Sam/Dean slash. Don't like it don't read it. Adult content and themes.
1. Chapter 1

The Plague Pt 1

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean and John/Bobby, a little bit of Dean/John

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously low the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

***********

Darkness shrouded the rolling hills of the cemetery. Far in the distance the faint glimmer of light shimmered on the small pond in the vacant pasture beside the fence. The breeze ruffled the tall grass creeping up the hill side and spilling through the fence between the pasture and the neatly trimmed grounds of the graveyard. Small white caps peaked on the pond rolling across the surface in shimmering waves. Water slopped on the dew coated grass making small puddles.

Suddenly the idyllic scene erupted in chaos. A swirling vortex opened above the rolling grass, a blue-white tornado spinning counter clock-wise in ever expanding circles of energy. A figure stepped out of the mass of whirling winds. A form was tall, bulky in a way that bespoke of massive muscle and great strength.

Two smaller figures appeared flanking the larger form as he moved over the grass. When the figures got to the wrought-iron fence running the circumference of the cemetery grounds the lager one drew to a halt; raising a fist the creature twisted his fingers causing the metal to bend and twist. Soon the fence was ripped apart, gaping open.

The larger demon walked the length of the dirt path running across the ground pacing off distance carefully. When he had reached the desired point on the path he stopped. From a bag one of the smaller demons took out a large silver goblet, holding it aloft so that the chief demon could work his spell.

"They breed like a plague upon the land. Humans scattered to all points of the compass, building and destroying holding on to this dimension like vermin infesting a fine dwelling. Here tonight I will cast this spell. Let all the breeders alive now be struck down. We cannot defeat the whole of the human race by slaughtering them so then let them die by attrition, unable to reproduce themselves without the vessels that bring them forth to life."

Lightening crackled in the night sky casting a sickly yellow glow over the lush green landscape. Around the demon the ground shook, from deep within the graves clots of moldy earth rose into the air. As the sky brightened the motes of dirt were snatched by the shrieking winds and cast out over the four corners of the globe.

Three Weeks later…

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the Motel Six in greater downtown Hadley, Arizona, population twenty-six, including the three Winchesters now occupying Room

Sixteen of the motel. They had come to Hadley on the trail of a Werewolf and by all accounts a very nasty one with a taste for little children, but so far they hadn't managed to turn up anything. A few days earlier they had run across a stone golem summoned by one of the locals and John had decided to take care of it. But his truck had ended up taking the brunt of the confrontation and needed some repair work on it. The three of them had been holed up at this dump of a motel for a week while Dean and John hustled money playing pool and worked on getting the truck back in shape.

He could see his Dad's truck parked in one of the spots in front of the room and pulled into the parking spot beside the truck. He winced when he got out of the car glancing down at the crumpled rear corner of the truck bed where his Dad had decided to take out the stone golem the hard way. It had worked but the truck bed was sitting tilted at an angle and the false bottom of the flatbed containing his Dad's weapons box was clearly visible. They had to get it fixed before moving on so that John wouldn't get pulled over by the highway patrol for smuggling drugs.

Dean shoved the car door open and pulled out the white paper bags of food he had bought at the diner down the street, carrying them to the motel room door. He kicked the door until Sam opened it and Dean jerked his chin in the general direction of the car.

"Get the beer out of the front seat."

Sam scurried across the hot asphalt barefoot and collected a six-pack out of the Impala. He hurried back to the room pulling the door closed behind him. Carefully he pulled one of the cans off the plastic rings and handed it to his brother. Dean dropped into a chair sorting out the food and glanced around the room.

"Where's Dad?"

"He walked down to the AutoZone down the street. He should be back in a minute."

Just then the door swung open and their father hustled in slamming the door closed against the glaringly bright sunlight. He deposited a plastic bag on one of the beds and settled at the table with the two younger men. Dean pulled a beer off the rest of the six- pack and slid it across the table to his father. John popped the tab and gulped half of it down in one shot.

"Damn it's hot out there," he hissed wiping the can across his forehead and wincing as the cold metal hit his heated skin.

Sam shoved their father's food at him and then picked up the TV remote flicking on the news. The screen brightened to the sun drenched exterior of a large white building with the caption 'St. Mary Magdalene Hospital' on the bottom of the picture.

Sam thumbed the volume up on the newscast and they watched in silence as the reporter stood in front of the huge building in downtown Phoenix. The area around the hospital looked like a war zone. The sidewalk was littered with bodies laying on gurneys and cots. A steady stream of people was clogging the doorways and as the camera swept across the parking lot they could see that a long line of cars was falling off into the distance. The reporter turned to the camera with a grim expression on his face.

"As you can see the scene is chaos here at St. Mary Magdalene Hospital and it is the same at every hospital in the greater metropolitan area. Since this disease began to spread about three weeks ago the hospitals are seeing increasing numbers of patients, all female. And of the patients being admitted to the hospital a confidential source has told me the disease has a ninety percent fatality rate. As of this date the city administrators are stating that the city has lost approximately two-thirds of the total female population."

Dean looked stunned.

"What the hell do you think is going on? Why are only women dying?"

John frowned.

"I think this is some kind of demon created plague. If they can't kill us off directly they're trying to take us out by making it impossible for humans to reproduce themselves."

Sam nodded.

"I've been following this on the net and in the paper since it began. They tried to keep it pretty quiet for a long time, but people talked. I think that Dad is right. This thing only affects women who are able to bear children. Girls that are too young or women who have already gone through menopause don't get it. So whatever it is it will definitely affect the population. And it's not just happening here in the United States, it's a global pandemic."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at his younger brother but John shut him up with a glare.

"Have they come up with a cure yet, or are they even working on one? I can't see that there's much that hunters can do about this one?" John asked.

"Maybe if we track and kill the demon that started the plague?" Dean said.

John shrugged.

"I can't see how that would help the women who have already died, wouldn't stop the spell, the bastard's already cast it. There's no bringing them back."

Sam shifted uncomfortably glancing at his father. They rarely talked about the fact that he and John were both hermaphrodites, although like all hermaphrodites, their female organs were non-functioning. John noticed Sam's questioning look and shrugged again.

Finally Dean voiced what Sam was thinking.

"What about the guys like you and Sam? I mean, you do have all the right parts thrown in there. Do you think that you guys are going to get it?"

Sam nodded. In school health class he had studied the genetic mutation that had been responsible for causing about a quarter of all human males to be born hermaphrodites, he and John were complete, they had both sets of reproductive organs, but their female parts were non-functioning, at least, Sam had never had a period. He was sure that his father hadn't either, but he had never been brave enough to ask John.

Both Dean and John turned to Sam, but he only shrugged.

"I don't know. It's true we have all the right organs, but we're arranged a little differently inside and out. I mean most of the stuff is in the right place, but we don't …at least, I don't have periods. Dad, how about you? Have you ever…?"

John flushed.

"No, nothing but I've sort of been expecting it. My doctor told me that it might happen as I got older and my male hormone levels started dropping. He did tell me to be 'careful' because if that started happening I could end up pregnant."

Dean snorted and John cast a baleful glare at him.

"Don't even mention wanting a little baby brother or sister, 'cause nobody is sticking anything in there, got it."

Sam shot his father a look.

"You're kidding, Dad, you've never let a guy…"

John shut him down with, "And you have?"

Coughing Sam turned to the computer.

"Uh…there's not a lot of information available right now about the plague's effect on hermaphrodites but, as long as we're not producing large amounts of female hormones I think that we have enough male hormones that will protect us."

"You know it's kind of creepy that Dad is still a virgin…"

"Dean," John said shifting in his seat, "I'm not a virgin. Where do you think you and Sammy came from?"

"No, I mean, sure, you've had guy sex but you've never had girl sex? So that makes you half a virgin." Dean stared at John until he began to shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Half a…that doesn't even make sense. Does that make me half a person?" John snorted.

Dean shrugged.

"So, you really never did it like a girl, not even when you…" Dean curled his hand into a loose fist and jerked it up and down meaningfully. John looked horrified.

"Who says that I even…" John snapped mimicking the gesture that his son had just made.

Sam and Dean both shot their father a look. Finally, Dean grinned.

"Come on, Dad. You're not as quiet as you think you are."

John's face went livid red.

"End of discussion."

Quickly he rose from the table and dumped the remains of his lunch into the trashcan. He pulled open the door and stalked out to the parking lot to survey the damage to his truck. He was standing beside the rear corner of the truck bed when Sam sauntered up beside him. John glanced up offering his younger son a tentative smile.

"You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah, it's just this plague thing. What if we aren't immune, Dad? I know Dean is, he's completely male, but you and me, we need to be careful not to go into highly populated areas, until this thing settles down."

"You think it will settle down?"

"Yes, it will. Once the target population is all infected and they either die or get well, the plague will die out itself. It happened in Europe during the bubonic plague, once enough women are exposed and start building antibodies or die off the disease will run its course."

Sam nodded, looking over at his father.

John sighed and asked,

"You want to know something else?"

Sam looked embarrassed then cocked his head at his father.

"It's just, you've really never done it with a guy, or even let a girl…you know put something in there?"

Stammering John ran his hand over the crumpled fender.

"Uh, no. I've stayed away from that, so you had a girl that did… that?"

"I dated her before Jess. She was bi and she liked to use a dildo…"

"Okay, Sammy, I really do not want to hear this. Remind me to never ask questions about your sex life ever again."

Sam smiled at him.

"Dad, just loosen up…"

"I could have never gotten loose enough to let your mother shove something up my…"

Sam cringed, "Okay, now I see what you mean about never wanting to hear about that. Dad, you and Mom?"

"Hell, Sam, what did you think, we found you on the doorstep in a basket?" John smiled but Sam just shuddered. Sighing John changed the subject.

"I think we should stay away from big cities for a while, take a little time off and keep to ourselves. It doesn't hurt to be safe."

"Yeah, Dean and I were thinking the same thing. We can work on getting the truck fixed."

Two days later John woke with a scratchy throat and a throbbing headache. He rolled over grunting as his elbow came in contact with the solid bulk of his older son. Sammy had always been a restless sleeper and some nights he never really settled down. Dean usually asked John before crawling into his father's bed especially since John had a tendency to sleep with his Glock under the pillow. But if Dean had asked John couldn't remember, or more likely John was so out of it that he hadn't noticed Dean climbing in the bed. He winced that meant that something was really wrong with him. He shifted experimentally then frowned. His boxers were wet, clinging to his body in a sodden uncomfortable mass of soaked material. John hoped that he hadn't been passed out to the point he had wet the bed. Lifting the covers he looked down and let out an alarmed yell.

His underwear and the sheets were soaked with blood. He shifted retching and leapt out of the bed.

"Shit!"

John paced a few steps away from the rust colored stains looking down as the trickle of blood ran down his thigh dripping onto the carpets.

Dean was awake staring at his father from the bed. Suddenly his eyes flicked from John to the blood stain on the sheets then back to John again.

"Uh, you all right there, Dad?"

"All right? Does it even remotely look like I'm all right? Dean, I'm hemorrhaging."

Sam rolled over his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"You're not hemorrhaging, Dad. You're just having a period."

Suddenly John fled into the bathroom. Sam and Dean could hear him vomiting. Dean gingerly rolled out of the bed and padded to the bathroom door.

"Don't worry, Dad. You just get cleaned up and we'll take care of it."

"We….," Sam paused then continued, "I just know you're going to make me go to the drugstore."

"Yeah, but you've had a live-in girlfriend, you have more experience. Besides I'll clean up the mess while you're gone."

John was very sick by the time Sam was infected with the plague. When he woke to blood-stained sheets Sam at least knew what to expect. The fact that his father was now deathly ill took some of his panic away from himself and focused it on John.

Dean was too absorbed in trying to keep a cool wet cloth on their father's forehead while he writhed on the bed. When John had pushed him away Dean seized a thermometer from the bedside table and forced it into his mouth.

"Jeeze, Sammy it's 105. I'm calling the paramedics."

The hospital was not as crowded as it had been a couple of weeks ago. Sam could actually see that most of the patients now were male hermaphrodites and many of them seemed to be extremely ill. John had had a seizure in the ambulance on the way to the emergency room and they had him packed in blue plastic ice bags and cooling blankets. An IV pole was by the bed and Sam checked his father's chart making sure that he was getting antibiotics.

Sam was not very ill, but under the advice of John's doctors he was admitted to the hospital as well and Dean was running himself ragged between the ward where Sam was resting and the ICU where his father was fighting for his life.

He was sitting in an uncomfortable polyurethane chair beside John's bed when the specialist came in. Dean rose, standing beside the doctor as she read the charts.

"So is my Dad going to die?" he asked quietly.

The doctor glanced at him over her glasses then smiled reassuringly.

"No, John is actually getting better. I know it doesn't look like it to you, but he is stable and his temperature is dropping, just slowly. In all the cases that I treated thus far the patients have made a full recovery. He will probably have some adjustments to make. May I ask you some questions about your father?"

"I'll do the best I can, but he keeps a lot to himself."

"I understand. Has your father dealt with his sexual identity at all; does he acknowledge he is a hermaphrodite or does he live like a male?"

"Pretty much like a man."

"This is going to be a difficult transition for him then. He may need you to support him emotionally."

"Yeah, doc, you don't know my Dad." Dean smiled and the doctor shot him a look. "Uh, can I ask you something?"

"If it doesn't interfere with doctor/patient confidentiality."

"It's not specifically about Dad. My father and my brother…"

"Your brother is a hermaphrodite as well? That's very rare, two members of the same family especially father and son. How is your brother?"

"He's okay now, but he is sick too."

"He'll be fine and it's actually beneficial that he was admitted early. His illness should run its course much more quickly with early treatment and he won't get as ill as your father."

"Are my Dad and my brother going to actually be able to have babies? I mean my Dad is fifty-two shouldn't he be going through menopause or something?"

"No, he wasn't functional all his life, just since the plague so he's actually going to be at the peak of his child bearing years, the same as your brother. And your father is extremely fit so he shouldn't have any problems, especially since the government is considering issuing a population increase initiative requiring that all hermaphrodites bear at least one child."

"What?" Dean asked, "How can they do that, what happen to individual rights?"

"Extraordinary circumstances. It hasn't been finalized, but if it is all these new "breeding" individuals are going to be paired with men selected by an agency to produce offspring, unless of course they already have a male partner."

Dean grunted rising from his seat and slapping a palm against the wall.

"How can they do that? I mean you're talking about selling my father and brother into slavery, worse you're talking about government sanctioned rape."

Shrugging the doctor put John's chart back on the cart she was pushing and turned to Dean.

"Don't say that you heard it from me, but your father and brother need to find a male partner on their own. Someone they trust and settle down with him, just until the initiative is defeated, or in case it passes. It's better if they at least know the men that will be their future sex partners and the fathers of their children."

When the doctor had gone Dean took his seat again looking over at his father's still form. Suddenly John moved, eyes opening slowly. He coughed and Dean rose calling the nurse,

"Hey, my Dad is awake."

The nurse came into the room and then brought John some water. Dean helped him sip at the glass then eased him back onto the pillow. His voice was weak and he stuttered a bit, but Dean sighed, smiling. John looked tired, worn in a way that Dean couldn't remember ever seeing him.

"I heard," John said quietly, "When you were talking to the doctor, I heard about the new law, about having to have a kid."

"We'll take care of it Dad. I won't let them do that to you and Sammy."

"Dean, this is probably the lowest thing I have ever ask you to do, but don't let them take Sammy. I can fend for myself, I'll be okay if I have to do that, but I don't want any man putting his hands on your brother, do you understand me?"

Dean shivered. "It can't come down to that, Dad. They can't do that...This is America, we have rights."

"Please Dean. We both know that they can and will. Please, God forgive me for asking you to do this, but if it comes to it take care of Sammy."

"Look Dad, if comes down to that. I'll take care of you both."

John shook his head winching in pain.

"God no, I can't do that. I can't ask you to do that, but I will ask you to do for Sammy."

"Dad, it's not like that, not now. Maybe it won't happen." Dean swallowed looking at John's grave expression. "But if it does, I'll watch out for him, whatever way I have to."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Plague Pt 2

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously low the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Motel Six….

Sam settled back against the headboard of one of the two queen-sized beds in the motel room. Nothing in that was remarkable; it was the same as hundreds of other times over the course of their lives. He yawned watching as Dean flicked through the channels on the TV. His brother passed over a History Channel show on the Salem witch trials and Sam held up a hand.

"Go back to that…"

Dean frowned.

"Dude, we know all we need to know about witches, they burn real good. End of story. I don't need a replay on it."

"I was just reading _The Crucible, _and this has the whole back story. You're not watching anything, gimme the remote."

"Jeeze, give it a rest, college boy," Dean snorted.

Sam launched himself off the bed and tackled his older brother. Dean grunted as the air was pushed out of his body by the weight of his younger brother slamming into his back. He slid over the smooth, worn surface of the comforter and banged up against the headboard with his head bent at a decidedly unpleasant angle.

"Get off!" he managed from under his brother's back. Spitting Dean dislodged Sam's

t-shirt from his mouth and dug his fingers into the younger man's ribs. Sam just lifted an eyebrow.

"Not ticklish, that would be Dad."

Sam managed to jerk the TV remote out of Dean's fist, and roll them over so that his legs were clamped around Dean's waist and his butt pushed against the side of his older brother's face.

"If you don't get off I'm gonna bite your ass. Try explaining that one to Dad."

Sam snorted.

"Oh yeah, it's not like he'd think anything about it, except that you're more perverted than we previously thought."

Dean worked his fingers into the bulky muscle of Sam's thigh, pinching a big chunk between his thumb and forefinger. Sam cringed yelping. With a victorious grin Dean rolled them over and pinned Sam with one arm wrenched up behind his back. He leaned down to whisper into his brother's ear when a mellow, soft aroma hit him. It was far from unpleasant; sweet and light, almost like aftershave or cologne but Sam used neither.

Whatever the scent was it was definitely coming from Sam, and Dean felt a spike of heat twist into his belly and roll downward right to his dick. The scent seemed to promise sex, pleasure and fulfillment of the most basic masculine needs; Dean closed his eyes breathing in deeply. He pulled Sam close to him, his brother growled in confusion. Quickly Dean released Sam and scooted back against the headboard but the sweet scent reached him anyway leaving him shaking with arousal. He gulped. Launching himself off the bed Dean stood in the center of the floor between the two beds shivering. Sam looked at him like he was crazy. But Dean didn't care.

"I'm going to go help Dad with the truck," Dean stammered.

Sam watched as his brother practically ran for the door.

"Goddammit," John hissed looking at the caved in section of the truck bed. "We're going to have to get this lined back up. The false bottom of the flatbed is visible. I think that one of the bolts has popped. Here, Dean, you lift the upper deck while I check the bolt on this end."

John shifted, still holding the upper part of the weapons box, waiting until Dean moved in behind him and grabbed the wall. Dean slid behind his father pushing up on the fake bottom of the flatbed so that John could shove the bolt back into place. John worked the flatbed back and forth, cussing and jerking the bottom of the weapons box so that the bolt holes lined up. His movements brought his body into contact with Dean and he grunted.

"Dad," Dean hissed shifting as John's hip impacted his groin.

John looked over his shoulder with a pissy expression on his face. Dean rolled his eyes. Finally, John looked chastised.

"Sorry," he said.

Leaning in again John slid his hips back and braced his butt against Dean's side to gain more leverage. Dean's breath huffed out in a hot breeze against his father's neck. John chose to ignore his son's grumbled complaints.

Suddenly Dean gasped, his spine stiffening like ramrod. He noticed that same scent he'd smelt on Sammy this time coming off John in warm waves. He leaned in to give John more support as he wrestled with the truck bed but also to get another whiff. The scent was very much like the one he had noticed coming from Sammy in the room earlier but fuller, richer. The only difference Dean found was one was the lighter scent of rose buds compared to the richer aroma of the full grown blooms. Closing his eyes Dean let his head drop until his chin was resting on John's shoulder. John grunted and tried to shrug him off.

"Dean," he hissed shaking his shoulders, but Dean merely inhaled that rich, warm scent.

Sammy had smelled fresh, new, just the faintest hint of aroma, leaving Dean with a tickling sensation in the pit of his stomach and a spike of arousal but the scent coming off of John was so much more provocative, hitting Dean in a more visceral way. If Sammy's scent had held an allusion of promised pleasure, John was ripe with it, ready to be split open and filled up.

And Dean's dick was definitely taking notice; in fact it felt like he might actually poke the teeth apart on the zipper of his jeans from the inside. He shoved his face into the back of John's neck, and then flicked his tongue over the rough skin. John tried to turn but trapped between the truck and Dean's body he couldn't move.

"Dad," Dean hissed through clenched teeth. "Take the bed wall."

"What?" John snapped, "Just be still, I'm almost done."

"Goddammit, Dad," Dean almost shouted. "Take the fucking bed wall before I drop it on you."

John slipped his hands under Dean's and lifted. Dean quickly stepped away from his father, breath coming in short, harsh pants. John fitted the two halves of the box together and whirled.

"What the hell is your problem? I almost had it," John shouted but he stilled, looking at Dean's washed-out face. "Are you okay?"

Raising a hand John pressed it against Dean's forehead unsure of what else to do.

"Are you getting sick, too?"

Furious with himself for being so weak Dean shoved his father's hand away from his face.

"No, I'm fine," he stammered, which really wasn't true Dean supposed. After all he had just gotten a raging hard-on from being pressed close against his own father. "Look, Dad. I don't want you going anywhere alone. Something weird is going on with this plague thing, something that scares the crap out of me…"

John leaned back against the truck.

"Scares the crap out of you? Dean, Sammy and I just almost died of some fucking demon induced plague and at the age of fifty-two I just had my first period, how do you think I feel?"

"No, its something else…Dad just don't go anywhere without me or Sammy okay? I mean when you were working on the truck, when I was standing behind you. Shit…"

"Just spit it out, Dean."

"When I was standing behind you just now, there's a scent or something that you're giving off."

The look on John's face might have made Dean laugh if he wasn't so freaked out about what had just happened. John glowered at his older son.

"Just what has this got to do with me not going out alone?"

Dean thrust both hands up in the air jerking his shoulders back.

"Look all I'm saying is that I don't think you, or Sammy, should go out alone. I noticed the same scent on him too, in the hotel room. But damn, Dad, Sammy may have got me turned over and idling, but you got me going from zero to sixty, full throttle. God Dad, I got so hard a cat couldn't scratch it."

"That's it…" John snapped.

Jumping forward he caught Dean unaware and got him in a head-lock. With his chin braced against his father's hip the scent hit Dean even stronger and he felt his mouth began to water. John crab-walked them both across the parking lot and kicked open the door to the room.

Sam dropped the remote, came up off the bed with a startled cry and scurried to his father's side, waving down at his brother.

"Dad, what the hell?"

"Your brother's insane," John said in a snotty tone of voice, "I'm just going to take care of it."

He hustled Dean through the room and into the bathroom. Shoving Dean into the shower John released his choke hold and turned on the cold water. Waving a finger in Dean's face he stepped back.

"I told you no…not me. God, it's bad enough that I asked you to do that with Sam, but not me ever. Do you understand?"

Sam shoved his way into the bathroom, taking in his Dad's pinched angry expression and Dean huddled under the rush of frigid water, shivering. He reached for the spigot to turn off the shower but John intercepted him.

"No, Sam…he… you don't understand. He… your brother… oh shit."

Wide-eyed Sam winced as Dean shivered under the stream of icy cold water. Sam gaped; usually it was him who rendered their father incoherent with rage. The most Dean ever managed to get him was pissy. But whatever Dean had done had pushed John from pissy to psycho bitch in less than half an hour. Sam was impressed.

It was shortly after the incidents with Sam and his Dad at the hotel that Dean began to notice that other men were attracted to his father and brother as well. Dean felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach especially since both Sam and his Dad seemed totally oblivious to the attention they were receiving.

Dean figured that Mother Nature was playing one hell of a bad practical joke on these poor people who had spent all of their lives, up to this point in time, thinking that they were men. Now they were going to have to deal with the fact that they were not men. Yes they looked like men but they were essentially different, and it was becoming more and more apparent all the time.

Dean knew that both Sam and Dad had virtually ignored those parts of their bodies that weren't strictly male. Except for one doctor's appointment a year, and John was insistent on that, they pretended that those organs didn't even exist. Now with the physical changes that the plague was having on them and on all hermaphrodites it was impossible for them to ignore them any longer. Something that Dean had been trying to stress to John and Sam, both, since they had gotten out of the hospital.

As it turned out Dean didn't have to argue his point any longer. The three of them walked into the small tavern across the street from the hotel after dinner that night. The hunt for the werewolf was a bust, and John had half-heartedly told them that the thing had either gotten wind they were hunting it or possibly been a female and had died of the plague. In either case he had decided that they weren't going to find it, and had started looking for a new job in another area.

Neither of the two younger men was in the frame of mind to argue with their father. They had been in this God Forsaken crappy little town for over a month now, through two full moons and had not turned up so much as a hair of the damn thing. It was time to move on.

As soon as they claimed a table, both John and Dean looked over the possibility of hustling a little pool and found it slim to none. They ordered a round of beers and just sat watching the few men milling around the room. The two women waiting tables were over fifty but they were still female and men being men, attracting more attention than was warranted. Dean could tell that the men sitting in sullen silence were not happy with the companionship on offer. John shoved his chair back, and headed down the side hall toward the restroom.

Dean watched as one of the men at another table turned, his eyes following John's every move. Although he had gotten used to the scent that both John and Sam seemed to constantly emit he could see that it had a noticeable effect on the other men around them. The tallest, and consequentially the largest, of the four men at the table made a crude remark about John behind his back. The kind he probably would have reserved for a woman a few months earlier. Dean flinched when he took a good look at his father's back. Both he and Sam had become accustomed to seeing their father in multiple layers of clothes, and a heavy jacket, during the cold weather. Now, dressed in only a t-shirt and jeans, Dean was extremely aware of just how slender John really was.

Either his father chose to ignore the guy or didn't hear him but John didn't react. Dean on the other hand was fuming. The guy made no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at John when their father walked back to the table. He had just about made it past the four other men when the big guy reached out and grabbed John by the arm, pulling John down into his lap. He shoved his face into the curve of John's neck breathing deeply.

"Hey baby, you look great and all, but do you know what'd really look good on you? Me."

John's face twisted into a sneer then, as he actually considered what the guy had just said, a smile. He choked back a laugh before finally letting it out. He was laughing so hard that he couldn't catch his breath when Dean shoved an empty chair out of the way, and kicked the table over onto its side. Beer fountained up into the air, and glass shattered sending the other men scrambling to get out of the way.

"Get your goddamn hands off my father," he said fisting the guy's jacket and jerking him to him half around in the chair.

John swayed dangerously and hiccupped into silence, grabbing the guy just to steady himself. The three other men moved around their vacated chairs and turned on Dean, one of them grabbing the back of the younger man's jacket.

Sam waded into the fray with a .38 hoisted to chest level.

"I wouldn't do that, friend."

The man shrugged offered his friend a half-hearted grin and raised his hands, backing away.

"Tom, let him go. A piece of ass ain't worth getting shot over."

Now John was pissed, he came up out of Tom's lap shoulders back, and spitting fire.

"Who are you calling a piece of ass?"

"Shut up, Dad," Dean snarled grabbing John's arm.

He jerked his father around and pulled him along, with Sammy covering them. When they cleared the bar door Dean tugged John forward until he was right in the older man's face.

"I told you not to go anywhere alone."

Sam pulled at Dean's arm, but his brother shook him off. Dean was past listening.

"Dad, I have been telling you and Sam for days now, that you have to be aware of what's going on, that you can't ignore it any more. If you just keep going on like everything is the same you're going to end up getting raped."

John tried to shake Dean's hands off, but Dean wasn't budging.

"Let go. I can take care of myself Dean. I've fought off things a lot tougher than a few obnoxious assholes. He'd have a hard time forcing anything on me…"

"You think so?"

Dean pushed John back against the wall, closing the space between them. John twisted his hand around Dean's forearm working the flesh in painful circles but Dean just grunted. He forced a knee between his father's legs and slid a hand up clutching at one of John's breasts through his t-shirt. John flinched as the small, firm mound was pinched under his son's fingers. He tried to jerk away but Dean was hard against him, unyielding and John swallowed, suddenly not so certain of himself. Dean caught the flash of fear on his father's face before John managed to shut it down, and stepped back.

"Dad, if I can do it, some stranger will have no trouble and no hesitation."

Sam brushed past his brother and slid beside John wrapping an arm over his shoulder.

"Dean _that_ was bullshit. Stop being such a dick."

"Look Sammy, I'm just trying to teach you and Dad a lesson. Things are different now, you're both vulnerable, and you can't pretend that it can't happen, because it can."

"It always could, Dean. Even before all this there were men who just instantly knew. I've had a few guys get a little too friendly but I've been able to put them in their place. And even the one time a guy tried to force the issue, a couple of other guys pulled him off." John's chest heaved in a sigh. "I don't know, Sammy, maybe your brother is right. This plague thing has changed us. You and me, and other men, males like us. We need to be aware of how it's going to affect us."

Dean leaned back against the wall, frowning.

"Finally, Dad I'm sorry about…that, but you just weren't getting it. Until this thing settles down, until more of those younger girls who survived get old enough to be potential partners men are going to look for guys like you and Sam, and some of them won't care if you want it or not. As much as I hate to admit it women have been dealing with crap like that for years, now you guys are stuck with it."

They made the trip back to the motel room in silence. Dinner was consumed in the room, as they watched the news. When they'd finished Dean and Sam cleared the pizza box and beer cans off the beds. A reporter was talking about the Increased Population Act which had a passed in Congress and stood a good chance of passing in the senate too. The scene cut to a demonstration outside the capital buildings, men and some old women who were protesting about what they called the reinstitution of slavery in America. They watched in grim silence.

While Sam finished showering John settled on the bed beside his older son.

"Dean this thing is all going to hell a lot quicker than I thought. I know that I've raised you to protect Sam and watch over him, and frankly I've always thought the two of you were a little too close."

Dean winced.

"Dad, you don't think. I mean we haven't… you know."

John shrugged and continued,

"Not yet, but you've thought about it some of those long, cold lonely nights. It's my fault for keeping us so separate from anyone else. Now that can work to our advantage."

Flushing Dean shrugged.

"Sometimes I've wondered, but hey almost all guys wonder what it'd be like with a guy like Sam or you. And I hate to say it Dad but when Sammy was gone. Hell, I even thought about it with you."

John looked appalled. Dean just shrugged again.

"We're Winchesters Dad, like Sam says we're not exactly the Brady Bunch."

"Well, I've done some research and if you and Sammy do this, at least, the kid more than likely will be okay. We don't have any major congenital defects in our family, unless you count a distinct lack of common sense."

"What about you?"

"I don't know; maybe pick up a guy in a bar?"

"God, Dad. No, there are all kinds of guys. Hey, maybe Pastor Jim?"

"He's a preacher; pre-marital sex and an illegitimate kid are not really big in his favor."

Dean frowned. "Caleb…"

"Hell no, I'm not that desperate. I'd rather go with a strange guy in a bar. Even by our standards Caleb is weird," John snorted.

"What about the Roadhouse, is there anyone?"

"Ellen may have more balls than a lot of guys I know but last I heard she didn't have a dick."

"Dad, that's not helping," Dean snickered, "I know…"

"Don't even say it!"

"Dad, desperate measures here. Just think about it. I mean what happened between you and him anyway."

"He got drunk and felt me up and I decked him."

"He tried to shoot you because you hit him?"

John shrugged, "Oh no; I had that coming."

Dean nudged his father in the shoulder and John blushed. He looked away, and Dean whistled.

"I'll be damned; you're in love with him."

"Dean," John growled, "I haven't felt anything for anybody since your mother."

"Its okay, Dad." Dean looked at his father. "Did you ever think that Bobby felt you up because he felt something for you, too?"

"What he felt was drunk and horny."

"Hey, you can work with that."

"Go to bed, Dean."

"I'm just saying…."

"Go To Bed, Dean."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The Plague Pt 3

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO (Finally some sex)

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta work on the story.

Dean woke the next morning spooned up behind Sam. He leaned forward letting his chest rest right up against his younger brother's broad back. Sam's scent was stronger now; they had finally figured out that meant he was at the mid-point of his cycle. The scent grew stronger the closer to ovulation and lighter at the beginning and end of the cycle. Dean sighed; there wouldn't be a good way to approach Sam about this so he just slid one hand along Sam's side and down his thigh. Sam jerked in his sleep then rolled over.

"Dean?" he whispered.

Quickly he looked over his shoulder beyond his brother and frowned at the empty bed across from the one they occupied.

"What's going on?"

Dean stroked his fingers back up Sam's leg then dipped them quickly into the waist band of his boxers just flicking the tips over the head of Sam's erect cock. Sam hissed.

"Dean maybe this isn't a good idea."

"Best one I've had all day. Come one Sammy, don't make me suffer."

"Dean, you're my brother; this is too weird even for us."

"Hey you know, Dad said something sorta like that yesterday."

"Speaking of Dad…"

"Let's not. I don't want to think about Dad right now."

With a deep indrawn breath Dean slid his hand further down grasping the shaft of Sam's dick and tugging. Sam choked.

"That's it Sammy-boy, just give the man a little room to work his magic."

"Dean, don't kill the mood."

Sam rolled over quickly grabbing his brother by the shoulders.

"Come on strip now."

"You bossy little bastard."

Dean grinned as Sam pushed his boxers down, and reached over to get Dean's underwear off as well. Dean swooped in for a kiss flicking this tongue over the thin line of Sam's lips. Sam opened for him and Dean delved inside working the soft spot on the roof of Sam's mouth that always got Dean hot and bothered himself. Sam groaned appreciatively. Dean slipped his hand down stroking the smooth skin of his chest. Sam raked his fingers down Dean's back digging into the slight swell of soft flesh at his hips.

"Dean just stop screwing around."

"I was under the impression you wanted me to screw around."

Sam shot him a look.

"I want you to screw period. So get on with it."

"Yeah, as much as I hate to rush this we gotta be quick, at least this time."

Grinning Dean didn't bother checking to see if Sam was ready he slid one arm under his brother's knee and hoisted his leg into the air. Pressing the top of Sam's thigh back against his chest Dean leaned in and thrust up and in. He set a steady pace, not giving Sam time to think, only feel. Sam's body jerked as he groaned. Dean grunted, thrusting hard. Sam let out another deep groan and his back arched off the bed as he came. Dean pressed in letting Sam's orgasm draw out his own then collapsed onto his brother's heaving chest.

"God, Dean," Sam panted.

He pushed Dean back. Dean growled but pushed himself up and over onto his back.

"Dean, we can't do this."

"Looks like we already did."

"No, what about Dad?" Sam said, wiping a hand across his face.

Dean smiled and leaned over to nip at Sam's sweaty shoulder.

"I don't think he's into threesomes, but I'll ask him."

"That's sick. What do you think Dad'll do if he finds out about this? Dad's not the most liberal person on the face of the earth."

"Granted, but I don't think he's homophobic." Dean shrugged. "Don't over-think this college boy. Just go with it. Dad'll be fine."

"No he won't be fine, Dean. Dad may not be homophobic but even so we're talking about his sons both being gay, with each other."

"I beg to differ with you, Sam. What we just did most gay guys don't do."

"What, did you take a poll or something? That's not what I meant and you know it."

Sam whacked him with the pillow. Dean rolled his eyes collapsing back onto the bed.

"God, all this screaming angst and we're not even teenagers…"

Sam grinned at his brother.

"I didn't even think that you knew words like angst."

Dean shot him a look and frowned.

"Not that you're particularly dumb…" he continued.

"Particularly?"

Dean snorted, digging his fingers into the muscle of Sam's thigh once again.

"I wish you were ticklish like Dad."

"Yeah, this thing you have about tickling Dad? How long has this been going on and just how often do you do it?" Sam asked, "I mean, are you like lying on top of him? Do you do it while he's driving? Have you ever gotten a hard-on from it?"

"No, no and are you kidding?"

With a sigh Sam sat up.

"We'd better get cleaned up before Dad get's back."

"Dad's gone?" Dean asked.

Sam looked at him with his mouth hanging open, then narrowed his eyes at his brother's flushed wide-eyed and too innocent expression.

"That's not funny, Dean."

"No, it's freakin' hilarious, Dude. You should've seen the look on your face, Sammy." Grinning Dean bolted from the bed. "I call first shower."

Sam frowned and settled back into the bed until he realized that the room had a distinct aroma hanging over it.

"Just great," Sam gasped.

If their father came back now there'd be no way he'd miss the smell, and Sam was left sitting here to explain it to him.

"Dean, you bastard," he muttered.

Sam grabbed his boxers and t-shirt and scurried to the window flinging it open. A wave of humid, over-heated air hit him in the face. Sam turned the air-conditioning up full force, the frigid blast sending steam curling out the window. Quickly Sam grabbed a can of deodorant from Dean's bag and sprayed it in the air.

Suddenly the door swung open. John stood framed in the early morning sunlight watching as his younger child sprayed clouds of noxious smelling stuff in the room. He coughed then turned to glare at the window. Sam did something he had not done since he was five years old; he quickly tucked the can behind his back. John rubbed the bridge of nose between his fingers then closed his eyes.

"I don't want to know."

Sam just grinned.

"So Dad, where have you been?"

"Sitting in my truck, talking on the phone."

"You can talk on the phone in the room. There is one here."

"You and Dean were asleep."

John motioned to the rumpled sheets, studiously avoiding looking at the wet spot on the graying cotton.

Sam gaped.

"_Well, I'll be damned_," he thought, "_Dean was right. Wait… Dean is right?_"

"Tell your brother to get his ass in gear. We're going to Durham, to Bobby's place."

They arrived at Bobby's at midnight. The truck rolled to a halt and John sat inside a few minutes until he saw a familiar figure come to the front door. Bobby walked out onto the porch and leaned against one of the supports. Dean and Sam were already out of the car talking to the older man before John stepped out, hauling his duffle bag over one shoulder.

Bobby motioned them inside.

"I put the boys in the rear bedroom. It's all set up, so you can hit the sack any time you want."

John waited on the porch beside the older man, while Sam tugged Dean down the hall and closed the door. John shrugged.

"Ah Bobby, thank you for putting us up. I didn't exactly give you all the details…"

"You never do, Johnny. I'll take it that Sam is one of these hermaphrodites and he and Dean are… uhmm."

"Yeah, if that bothers you we can leave," John said hesitantly.

Bobby smiled at him kindly and John felt his heart skip.

"Uh, there's something else."

"I already know about you, John. I've patched you up and given you a few baths in the past when you were out cold. I've seen, not that I looked mind you…I didn't molest you or anything."

"I know that, Bobby. It's just that this law applies to me, too. So I was kinda thinking, if you could stand it, you might break me in."

Bobby flushed then dropped an arm around the other man's shoulders.

"Hell, John you're not exactly hard on the eyes. I think I can manage. I'm not as young as I used to be but I can do all right."

"No, that's not what I mean. I've never been with a man. So you really have to break me in."

"Oh! Well, it's been a while since I've had that honor but I reckon I can do that, John."

Bobby motioned John down the hall.

"That's why I sent the boys on. I wasn't sure that you'd want them to know you were sleeping in my bed. You are sleeping in my bed, aren't you?"

"Yeah, if you want."

"John, I might as well tell you that I've wanted that for years now."

John dropped his bag on a chair beside the door and looked at the huge, four poster bed on the far wall. It was draped in a heavy brocade comforter and matching sheets that all looked brand new. John smiled. Leave it to Bobby to make a fuss.

Bobby closed and locked the door, smiling at John. Then he began stripping down. John turned his back and pulled off his shirt. When he was naked he slipped into the bed and watched as Bobby hurriedly walked across the room and climbed in next to him.

John was tense, holding himself almost rigidly against Bobby's side. The older man smiled at him.

"John, I won't hurt you. If you change your mind or if it gets to be too much, tell me and I'll stop. For god's sake don't lay there and take it. I've never been into rape."

Bobby pushed John down on the bed. He pressed a kiss on the other man's lips then licked a line down his jaw, working his tongue through the soft, light stubble still on John's chin. Grinning, Bobby slid his tongue alone the line of fine dark hair running between John's breasts and down to his navel. John gasped, fingers automatically working their way into the older man's hair.

Moaning, Bobby worked his way down John's abdomen then ran his tongue along the crease of his thigh, where it melded into his hip. John's pubic hair tickled his nose and he snorted.

"Hang on John 'cause you're going to love this!"

"Oh my god!" John gasped as Bobby licked down John's cock and worked his tongue into the soft folds of wet flesh between his balls.

Gently he pulled the small rounded sacks apart and drove his tongue inside. John's shoulders snapped back and he closed his eyes. Bobby grinned, his voiced somewhat muffled.

"That good?"

"Oh hell yeah! Don't stop. Whatever you do don't stop."

Taking a deep breath Bobby ran his fingers along the path his tongue had just taken and then looked up at the younger man with a slight frown. John hadn't been kidding about not having any prior experience; Bobby could see the physical evidence of that. Rising up on his knees he slid forward.

"John, this might hurt a little at first, okay. Just let me know if you want me to slow down."

He waited until John bobbed his head and then pressed forward. John stiffened beneath him so he stopped, waiting until he could feel John's body relax.

"It's okay, more…," John said slowly.

Finally, Bobby slid all the way inside, his eyes rolled closed.

"Oh hell, John. You're so tight, it's perfect."

He pulled out and thrust inside and up. John jerked beneath him panting. After a few seconds Bobby had a steady rhythm that worked for them both. John reached up clasping the older man's biceps in his hands.

John's back arched off the bed and he uttered a low, throaty moan.

"Oh God! Bobby… oh my god, yes!" he cried out.

Bobby canted his hips and thrust a few times in quick succession then flooded John with his seed. Panting Bobby dropped onto John's chest then heaved himself up and over.

With a smile he shifted, sliding an arm under John's shoulders and pulled him into his embrace. John's breathing had settled somewhat and he gasped,

"Damn, that was good."

"Well, I aim to please," Bobby said grinning.

John shot him a look, somehow he felt that he wasn't the first one to hear that line. Bobby stroked his hand over John's flank then worked his fingers into the younger man's ribs. John jerked back, slapping at Bobby's hand.

"You know what, Johnny? Somehow I didn't peg you as a screamer…"

John offered him a mock frown.

"I wasn't screaming. I was just expressing myself, very loudly." There were a few seconds silence before John asked, "Bobby, tell me it wasn't that loud. Do you think that the boys heard me?"

Bobby snickered.

"Shit, John, I think the neighbors heard you."

Sam and Dean glanced at the closed bedroom door and then at each other. Suddenly Dean burst into laughter and Sam smacked him on the arm. With a gleeful snort Dean said,

"Damn, did you hear Dad? Bobby must be really working it to get that kind of reaction out of the old man. I can't wait until morning."

"You're not going to say a thing. This is hard enough for me so I know it's really hard for Dad."

"I think you mean it's hard for Bobby. Well, probably not now 'cause I know Dad came like a rocket so Bobby probably wasn't far behind."

Sam frowned at him.

"I don't want to hear about Dad or Bobby coming. However, I will discuss my coming, maybe even yours, if you behave."

"I'll behave Sammy, I promise."

"Then be a good boy and slide over here. I've got something for you."

Sam pulled Dean's arm and his brother slipped across the sheets. He stroked one hand down Sam's chest then slid it between his legs working Sam's cock and balls until the younger man groaned appreciatively.

"I thought we might try something different," Sam said.

Reaching into the drawer in the bedside table Sam pulled out some lube and a condom. Dean looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"Uh, Sam I don't think we need those if you're gonna get pregnant."

"This isn't for you, it's for me. We'll get around to the other thing later; right now payback is a bitch. Dude, spread 'em."

Sam rolled Dean onto his back and forced his knees between the older man's thighs. Dean grinned.

"Oh Sammy I love it when you get all masterful…"

"Can't you ever shut up?"

"Hey, don't blame me, it's my genetic makeup."

With a quick kiss Sam squirted a dollop of the lube on his fingers and found Dean's entrance. He shoved two fingers in and Dean hissed, hips jumping off the bed.

"Oh shit, Sammy that's good."

Working the lube into his brother's body Sam quickly rolled the condom on and pushed Dean back down on the bed. Dean struggled for a few minutes.

"Hey, I like it face down…"

"Yeah, well you're not calling the shots are you? You'll take this way and like it."

Grunting Dean lay back, grinning as Sam slid inside him. He let out his breath in one long sigh and raked his fingers down the younger man's back. Sam thrust a few time looking for the perfect angle and when Dean hissed and clawed at his shoulders he knew he had found it.

"Ahh…hell yes," Dean hissed.

In a few minutes Dean felt that inescapable tension coiling in his belly. He thought about pushing Sam off but decided to just ride it out. Still he was a little shocked when his orgasm washed over him. He could feel Sam jerking inside him then the younger man slumped over, falling on Dean's chest with a muffled grunt.

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. No-one wanted to look anyone else in the eye. Bobby was the only one who seemed remotely normal except for the fact he kept touching John. Not overt, just subtle touches; a hand on his arm, patting his back and a quick shoulder rub. John just sighed deeply and kept his head down for much of the time but by the tenth time he was looking a little frayed. Sam and Dean noticed that their father was getting a little antsy from Bobby touching him so often. The fact that John took it with reasonably good grace spoke volumes about how he felt toward the older man.

The day went quietly; they kept a low profile hanging out at the house. John helped Bobby work on a couple of cars in the garage and Sam and Dean worked on their Dad's truck, getting the last of the body work done and touching up the paint. It was all so normal that it felt surreal to Sam.

He and Dean finally got bored enough to think about taking a trip into town so after lunch they borrowed the key's to John's truck, in exchange for gassing it up and headed out to greater metropolitan Durham. Dean laughed hysterically when they reached the downtown area and Sam saw the simple two lane intersection dotted with small shops and the City hall building.

They didn't even bother stopping but hit the interstate to Lawrence, which was by no means Los Angeles but did, at least, have a mall. Dean parked the truck crossways on two parking spots to keep the fresh paint from getting scratched; Sam frowned at him. The parking lot looked pretty empty so he didn't think they'd get a ticket. John would kill them if they did.

Bobby watched the truck disappear down the road and threw the rag he was using to wipe his hands on over the hood of the car they were working on. He hated re-building a carburetor. John had a long streak of grease on his face across his nose and down one cheek. Bobby snickered and took a swipe at it with the rag. John just shrugged.

"It's just gonna get dirty again anyway, might as well just not worry about it."

Leaning over Bobby kissed him on the cheek then grasped John's chin and kissed him on the lips.

"Hey, with the boys out of the way why don't we make good use of our free time?"

John grinned at him.

"You know for a man your age you're pretty perky."

"Perky, ain't nobody ever called me perky before Johnny-boy."

"I've been spending too much time with Sam. So what'd you have in mind? The front porch?" John asked.

"Naw, old lady Henderson would probably call the cops. She was giving me the evil eye this morning already. I told you the neighbors heard you last night."

Sliding his hand into the small of John's back Bobby propelled him toward the Impala. John came to a sudden halt. He flicked a quick glance at the older man.

"Dean's car? He'll kill us if he ever finds out. Aw, what the hell. Did you know Dean was actually conceived in that old Impala?"

"Well, there you are. Let's get another generation of Winchesters cookin' in the thing."

John pulled the rear passenger side door open, and glanced down at the worn leather seat. Bobby stood behind him giving John a few minutes alone with his thoughts. John smiled at Bobby and turned around.

"Singer…" John said.

"Yeah," Bobby replied.

John whacked him on the arm and Bobby just grinned.

"No, I meant that a kid ought to have its Daddy's name, unless you don't want to."

"It's my kid, John, same as yours."

Bobby pressed in close behind John rubbing his stubbled chin over the rough skin on the younger man's neck. John winced. He turned around; backing up until his knees hit the edge of the seat. Before Bobby could say anything he found himself being pulled down into the car.

They were still laying in the backseat when they heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires. Bobby reared up looking over the seat as the truck swung around the bend in the driveway. He scrambled to get his shirt buttoned and yanked his jeans up. John had it worst, trying to hurriedly wrestle his jeans back on and find his t-shirt in the foot well of the backseat. He shoved Bobby over and jerked his pants over both feet at the same time, his knee contacting solidly with the seatback. Hissing out a curse he managed to get his jeans zipped and push the other man off him enough to slip the t-shirt on. He slumped down in the seat and got his boots on and tied. Bobby tumbled out of the door with his shirt hanging crookedly, John sliding out of the car behind him. Slamming the door they trotted across the yard and settled on the porch waiting for the boys. John grimaced at Bobby's uneven shirt.

"So, did you get whatever it was you were looking for?" John asked.

Dean just shrugged.

"Yeah, Sam dragged me to the bookstore, as usual."

"It wouldn't kill you to read something once in a while," John offered.

Dean flipped the mismatched buttons on the front of Bobby's shirt and smiled.

"So you and Bobby were really pouring over the books while we were gone, eh Dad?"

Bobby chose to ignore him and smacked Dean's hand away.

"Let's get cleaned up and get out on the town tonight, maybe that new place on the freeway. I've been meaning to get over there and never had the chance."

Bobby stood in the doorway of the bedroom watching as John finished dressing. He smiled as he took in the long, lean body dressed in tight jeans and a black t-shirt. John was sexy as hell and Bobby had always thought so, even before this plague business. Now, his body still thrumming with unspent energy, he couldn't wait to get out and show off what was his. When he looked up again John was standing facing him, a half-smile gracing his lips.

"What are you looking at?" he asked gruffly.

Bobby reached out and grabbed John by the hips pulling him forward until the younger man was pressed against his chest.

"You! Damn but you're one good looking guy, Johnny-boy."

Blushing, John shoved him away.

"Is that why you're staring at me?"

"Naw, I was staring 'cause I was seriously thinking about taking you to bed and banging you again."

"Goddamn, Bobby, I can't walk straight as it is," John said, smiling as Sam appeared in the hallway still pulling on a shirt.

"Guys, come on. I don't want to hear about old people sex. It's too gross."

"Who are you calling old?" Bobby and John chorused together.

Dean sauntered out of the bathroom rubbing a towel over his hair, shirt hanging open over a white t-shirt. Bobby flipped the corner of his shirt up and Dean smiled.

"It's not that you're old, per se, just over the hill."

Grinning Dean flicked a hand toward Sam.

"I mean this baby-making stuff; it's a young man's business, Bobby. I just don't want you and Dad to be too disappointed when me and Sam are waiting for the stork to arrive and you two are left empty-handed."

Bobby narrowed his eyes.

"Young man's business, huh? Well kid, you want to put your money where your mouth is? I'll bet you John is pregnant long before Sam is."

John and Sam looked at each other.

"Hey, don't we have anything to say about this?" John asked, annoyed.

Dean glared up at Sam and Bobby just shrugged.

"Hell Johnny, as many times as I've gone at you the past couple days and without a rubber in sight. You've probably already got a bun in the oven."

Sam and Dean both cringed.

"See now that's just way too much information," Dean said with a sigh.

Narrowing his eyes Dean sidled up beside the older man and clapped Bobby on the shoulder.

"About that bet, what about you putting up or shutting up, old man. Name the price, 'cause I say Sammy is knocked up way before Dad."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

The Plague Pt 4

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) ***Extra Warning: Attempted rape this part. ***, some hurt/comfort

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

The new place turned out to be a western themed bar with loud country music and line dancing. Dean winced at the tinny music and bad vocals but at least the place had a great bar. It ran the full length of the far wall, with glass shelves, mirrored bar-back and long row of cane-backed barstools.

Bobby motioned them to a booth and slid into one side, John slid in beside him. Bobby laid his arm on the back of the bench above John's shoulders. Sam smiled at the possessiveness in the gesture but it seemed as if neither of the older men even noticed it was happening.

The mood in the bar was still a little subdued, it had been less than two months since the devastating plague and many people were still a shell-shocked, just beginning to search for possibilities in their lives. There seemed to be a majority of older couples, mostly married and middle-aged but a few younger people. There were a lot of single men studying the crowds and a few male couples. Although these still seemed to be in the minority. John shivered as the air conditioning kicked on full-force. He slid out of the seat.

"I'm going to get my jacket out of the truck. I'll be right back."

It was a simple thing, something that John would have done many times in the past and not one of the other three men at the table really noticed. Dean was too absorbed in the menu and arguing with Sam about the merits of 'hot' wings over 'honey-barbeque' to even react when his father left. But by the time the waitress had come back for drink orders the third time and John hadn't come back to the table the others took notice.

John pushed past the throng of people crowding the doorway waiting for tables and trudged across the parking lot toward his truck. Bobby had been driving and mindful of Dean's warnings about the paintjob had parked in an end spot just beside an alley. John hauled the driver's side door open and felt behind the seat for his fallen jacket. He heard the sounds behind him before he felt the first hand twist into the back of his t-shirt. His jacket fell on the ground and he uttered an abbreviated shout when a hand clamped itself over his mouth. Throwing an elbow into the ribs of the guy behind him John jerked back. But a second set of hands caught his arm, pinning him between the two men. A third figure loomed up in front of him and John's head rocked back against his captor's arm as a punch caught his cheek. The hand tightened on his mouth. He gagged as the sweaty flesh worked its way into his mouth. He made an attempt to bite at the hand and got a second punch to the side of his head. He sagged, half-conscious.

The three men hustled John across the short distance from the truck to the alley and he caught a look at one of them in the street-light on the corner. He was probably no more than eighteen with shaggy blonde hair and pale stubble on his chin. Presumably the other two were not much older; John struggled but couldn't budge the hands gripping him.

His back banged against the chest of the boy holding him from behind. John managed to kick behind him catching the boy in the shin. With a yelp the hand slipped off his mouth but the boy punched him once in the back and John grunted in pain. He tried to take in enough breath to yell but the hand found its way over his mouth again.

He was slammed against the wall, his head thudding against the brick, feeling the world swim out of focus. The boy in front of him ripped his t-shirt from neck to hem pushing it back away from his body. A sweat-slicked palm raked over his breast and John flinched. He managed to jerk his arm free from one of the boys but the other two closed in.

Before he could turn his head a mouth was on his jaw, the kiss poorly aimed and he felt teeth sinking into his skin. Cringing, John stilled not wanting to inflict more damage by pulling away. His attacker moved and he heard snickering as the blonde boy's mouth fastened itself to his bare breast.

"Get him down," the voice behind him hissed, "Come on! Hurry up before they realize he's gone."

John groaned as the boys wrestled him to the ground. One boy pinned each of his arms, but his legs were free and he kicked out catching the blonde squarely in the belly. The boy doubled over then kicked John in the side. One of the boys kneeling on his arms lifted his head and smacked it against the asphalt. The alley went to soft focus again and this time it took longer for the fog to clear.

When the haze lifted John realized that the third boy's hands were on his belt and he jerked again trying to pull free. There was a sound at the mouth of the alley and movement. Then the weight was off him; John rolled over onto his hands and knees.

Dean had one of the boys in a head-lock and Sam had the other by the scruff of the neck.

Bobby had hauled the blonde off John and slammed his fist into the boy's face. His nose erupted in a geyser of blood but the older man hit him again. The boy sagged against the wall; Bobby hauled him up hitting him twice in quick succession. Dean yelled at him.

"Bobby, for God's sake stop it! You're going to kill him."

"You saw what he was doing."

John staggered to his feet.

"Bobby don't. Let the police handle it."

In the stark overhead lights of the emergency room the bruises on John's face were truly spectacular. His nose was caked with dried blood and his lip slightly swollen. The bite mark on his cheek was the worst of the visible injuries. He sat on the exam table shivering in the thin cotton hospital gown waiting for the doctor to come back. All in all he had suffered much worse physical injuries in the past.

A grim faced deputy sheriff and a woman from the rape crisis center had already been in to speak to John, and the forensics team had done a rape exam. All of which he thought was completely useless and unnecessary. Everyone around him was making such a big deal out of it that it was beginning to piss John off. He felt fine.

The doctor, a young man probably Dean's age, came in carrying an envelope of skull x-rays. He spoke so slowly and calmly to John that the older man felt like slapping him.

"Well, John…"

"Mr. Winchester," John said snottily, and the young doctor flinched.

He smiled again this time looking less self-assured and John felt like a jerk. It wasn't the kid's fault that John was tired of being treated like he was made of spun glass.

"Mr. Winchester, you don't have a skull fracture or a concussion so that's good news. Most of the contusions are superficial. I would like you to reconsider making an appointment with the rape intervention counselor, though. You may suffer some mental trauma from this attack."

"I've suffered a lot more trauma than this," John sighed. "They tried to rape me, but they didn't. It's my own fault, my son has been bitching at me for weeks now about not putting myself in that situation and I did. I'll be okay."

The doctor didn't look convinced, but let it pass.

"I'm going to give you a prescription for Valium. If you feel over anxious about this take it as prescribed, just for a few days. If you find that you need it more than that I'm going to ask that you go to counseling before writing any further prescriptions."

"I don't need it," John said, but the doctor shoved the slip of paper into his hand, along with the pink business card that the counselor had left. John took them and slid off the table.

Bobby draped John's jacket over the younger man's shoulders to cover the blue surgical scrubs shirt that the hospital had given John to replace the t-shirt and jeans that the forensics team had taken for evidence. John tugged the jacket on following the others outside.

The trip back to the house was quiet, John still riding the painkillers the doctor had given him in the ER. Bobby got him out of the truck and into bed in short order. John lay stretched out on his back listening to the subdued sounds from his boys and the older man as they sat talking in hushed tones in the living room.

After a few minutes Bobby appeared at the bedroom door and pulled it closed behind him.

"John, you still awake?"

"Yeah, I don't want you and the boys doing anything about this if they let those kids out of jail. This is not our kind of hunt."

"Evil is evil, John."

"No, I mean it. I won't have you or one of the boys in jail over this thing. It was my fault, Dean's been telling me…hell, you told me I needed to be careful. I brought this on myself."

Bobby settled down, hesitantly he reached out for the other man, but drew back. John winched.

"Don't you start doing it, too. I'm not going to break, Bobby. You can touch me; I want you to touch me."

Sliding across the bed Bobby gathered John into his arms. As soon as Bobby slid his hand beneath John's shoulder John jerked half-up right in the bed, Bobby's gentle stroking transformed into a fist knotted into the back of his shirt. John swallowed pressing tightly against the older man. Suddenly John's stomach clenched and he took a deep breath. Bobby rolled over into a sitting position leaning down over John and the younger man cringed back. John felt his head spin as he seemed to be lying on cold asphalt again. Suddenly he wasn't so sure that he was okay.

"Bobby," he whispered. The older man tugged John into his arms.

"Yeah, John?"

"I'm glad you got there. I don't think I could have taken it…I don't want anyone to ever touch me but you."

John felt something warm and wet on his face, and realized that he was crying.

"Oh shit…," he mumbled.

Bobby slid his fingers under John's chin, and kissed him.

"Don't cry baby, I've got you."

They lay side by side pressed together. Gradually Bobby felt John relax against him into sleep. With a sigh Bobby lay back closing his eyes. He felt raw around the edges and wondered just when John Winchester had become the center of his world.

Sam settled on the sofa leaning against Dean's shoulder. The news was on the TV but Dean flicked the channel to Leno. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Dean finally turned off the TV.

"Sammy, what happened to Dad could happen to you too. So please, for my sake don't wander off alone like that, not right now."

"It shouldn't be this way, Dean. What is it about disasters like this that brings out all the worst in people?"

"Its human nature I guess, Sam."

"We've spent our entire lives fighting the worst kind of evil and now we humans are becoming the thing we hate."

"Not all of us. There are still some good ones left. We just have to pick up the slack for the ones that go bad, that's all."

John woke up stiff and sore and in a hell of a bad mood. His insides ached, although he supposed that might not necessarily be from the attack. Then he realized exactly what the cramping meant and groaned. He growled a curse under his breath and shoved Bobby's hand off his back. Bobby rolled over and glared at the other man, but John was already disappearing into the bathroom. Bobby heard the shower come on, and he ruefully glanced down at his hard cock.

"Sorry boy, looks like a no go for this morning."

John thumped a glass of juice beside his plate glaring at the eggs and bacon. He flicked a glance at the window and the bright sunlight pouring inside.

"Goddammit, it's hot in here," he snapped.

Bobby just stood up and turned down the temperature on the thermostat, the air conditioning kicking in.

Sam stomped into the room shaking water out of his hair. John flinched when the droplets splattered against his skin.

"Do you have to shake like a dog? I know there are towels in the bathroom you could try using them."

"Maybe you could try minding your own damned business, Dad," Sam snapped jerking a cabinet open.

The dishes rattled inside and Bobby cringed. Dean slid his chair back from the table with a frown. Before he could say anything John jumped to his feet.

"Don't you dare take that tone of voice with me, young man."

Sam backed up against the cabinet and snarled.

"Just leave me the hell alone."

Dean rose but Bobby grabbed him by the arm before he could step between Sam and their father. Shaking his head the older man just cleared his place at the table and stepped back, letting Sam slide into a chair. Before Sam could say anything to John the older man turned on Bobby.

"Why is it so fucking cold in here? Are you trying to freeze us to death?"

Bobby swallowed and went to the thermostat again. Sam just dropped his fork. But John's look stalled any comment he was going to make. Grateful for the distraction Bobby took the opportunity to make break for the door dragging Dean behind him.

"You're going to leave them in there alone together?"

Bobby shrugged.

"Better them than us. They'll be okay. Just give it a couple of days."

Dean looked perplexed.

"Huh?"

"It's that time of the month, Dean. Just stay out of their way until the dust settles."

"Hey, look we don't have to be afraid. Most men go through this all the time with their wives …girlfriends ...significant others and they don't have to run for cover."

"Most men don't have _significant others_ who can kill them with their bare hands, _we_ do."

"So what do we do about the bitch queen and the little princess in there?" Dean asked sighing.

Bobby clapped him on the shoulder.

"Just walk softly and keep our mouths shut."

With a sigh Bobby leaned around the corner of the porch to get a quick glimpse of the interior of the kitchen and smiled. Quickly he ducked into the house grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter by the stove. He tapped Dean on the shoulder in passing.

"Come on we're going into town. I'm going to grease the skids a little, so we can make it through the next four days unscathed."

"How?" Dean asked.

Bobby shoved him toward his pick-up. Dean went around to the passenger door and climbed in.

"There's a candy shop on Main Street that has hand-made chocolates."

"You're going to buy Dad candy? Are you out of your mind? Besides Dad never eats candy, especially chocolate."

"No, John is too damn stingy to buy chocolate, at least since you boys stopped eating it. But if I get it he'll eat it."

"I think I know my old man pretty well," Dean snorted.

"Live and learn, kid."

The house was quiet when Dean and Bobby got back. Too quiet. Dean was worried that Sam and John had killed each other until he pushed the front door open and Sam was curled up on the sofa reading. Then Dean was worried that Sam had killed their father and buried him in the back yard. He was on the verge of going out to rear of the house to look for a fresh grave when he heard the sound of someone moving in the kitchen.

Finally, Dean let out the pent up breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding and followed Bobby through the door and into the other room. John was drinking coffee at the breakfast table reading the paper. The dishes were washed and the room cleaned up. Everything looked so normal that Dean was worried, yet again. John looked up at them.

"Where'd you go?" he asked with just a slight edge to his voice.

Bobby stooped over and kissed him on the side of the neck, John's lips compressed into a thin line. Before he could say anything Bobby poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down shoving a yellow colored paper sack across the table.

"I had some errands to run, and I went by Gracie's on the way back."

He looked down at the paper and dragged a section over, not looking back up at the other man. John dumped the contents of the paper sack out and turned the square gold-foil box over on the table top.

"You bought me candy? Bobby you didn't have to do that…" John said with a wince.

Bobby started to slide the box over to himself but John snatched it up.

"I didn't say I didn't want it…"

Dean knew his mouth was hanging open but he couldn't seem to get his jaw to work well enough to get it closed. Bobby smiled then cast a smug glance at the younger man. Dean felt like smacking him.

He watched as John opened the box and took out one of the large chocolate truffles. His eyes closed in near ecstasy as he ate it. Dean stomped over to the table motioning to the box.

"You hate candy…" he said waving a finger under John's nose.

"Look, Dean there's candy and then there's Gracie's candy. That's like the difference between a poltergeist and a demon. One'll just bump you a little to get your attention the other'll lay you out colder than a block of ice."

John stood up, brushing past his son, and dumped the remains of his coffee in the sink. He rinsed the cup and sat it beside the pot.

"Come on, Bobby. We've got to finish re-building that carburetor."

Sighing the older man drained the rest of the cup and dropped it in the sink. He followed John out to the garage. Dean watched as they disappeared inside then went back to the living room.

Sam was hunched over his book in a tight knot that looked extremely uncomfortable to Dean. He settled on the arm of the sofa beside Sam running his fingers through the younger man's long hair. Sam looked up, face pale and pinched.

"Hey, Sammy what's wrong? You look like you're hurting."

"Yeah, it's these cramps. I never knew they were so bad. Now I feel bad for getting pissed at Jess when she was in a bad mood."

"Do you think coffee would help, or maybe something else? I'll get it for you. I know there's a heating pad. I saw one in the closet. Do you think that would make a difference?"

Shrugging Sam set his book aside.

"Honestly, I don't know."

"I'll get it. I mean they always do it on TV that must mean something."

"It might mean that the people who write for TV don't really know what the hell they're talking about," Sam said stiffly, but he settled back and let Dean put the heating pad over his belly and stoop down to plug it in.

"Dad doesn't seem to be hurting as bad as you," Dean offered and Sam just looked at him.

"It figures. Dad is also older than me; maybe he just handles the pain better. Maybe I'm just a wimp, like you two always thought."

Dean took a deep breath.

"We never thought that you were a wimp, Sammy. And I think that it's kind of sad that Dad has suffered so much he can handle pain that well."

Sam leaned back offering his older brother a brief smile.

"It is helping. I guess you don't have to write the networks and tell them to fire all their writers. Where're Dad and Bobby."

"Out in the garage. They're finishing up that Chevy pick-up."

With a brief gesture Sam indicated for Dean to sit down.

"I've run across a couple of jobs. I noticed that there were a few news articles about some transients getting killed in Topeka, and another set of reports about motorists running across a teenaged girl on Highway 335 to Kansas City. Sounds like a Lady in White type of situation there. The transients are a little harder to pin down."

Dean smiled.

"Yeah maybe the four of us have been cooped up here in the house a little too long. We can split the jobs up; you and me take the lady in white and leave the other to Dad and Bobby."

"Bobby doesn't work in the field. I don't know how well he could back Dad up," Sam objected.

"Well enough. He'll do okay. I say we talk about this at lunch. Might do us all some good to get some alone time too."

Bobby unlocked the large sliding door to the garage and he and John pushed it up and out of the way. The Chevy pick-up they were working on was at the rear of the garage behind another car. Bobby walked over and popped the hood looking around for the right wrench to pull the stubborn parts out. Before he could find the right tool box John had shoved him against the wall. John's mouth tasted like coffee and chocolate and Bobby wasn't complaining about the warm lips pressed tightly against his. He wrapped his arms around John's waist, pulling the other man in close against his body.

"Damn, John. I'll have to buy you candy more often. Not that I mind but this can't lead to anything right now, not with you…you know."

"That's what you think."

Before Bobby could move John dropped to his knees and jerked the zipper down on the older man's jeans. Bobby jumped as John's cold fingers worked their way into his boxers and then jumped again when his cock was enveloped in warm, wet heat.

"Oh holy crap!" Bobby stammered.

He tried to push against John's shoulders, but it was like trying to budge a mountain. John wrapped one arm around Bobby's knees and the other around his ass. He took a deep breath around the flesh growing hard inside his mouth and sucked. Bobby was rocking against him now half-pleading for John to slow down, and half-begging for him to not stop.

John sucked in a deep breath through his nose and relaxed his throat, swallowing. Bobby groaned,

"Oh god, John you need to back off. I'm going to…"

Before he finished the words John curled his tongue up and around the cock in his mouth and Bobby erupted. He leaned down watching John's throat move as he swallowed.

Panting Bobby fumbled around setting both his hands on the other man's shoulders. His knees would have buckled if it hadn't been for John's strong arm wrapped around him.

Finally, John opened his mouth letting Bobby's limp cock slide out. He gave it a little pat, and helped Bobby tuck it back in his jeans.

"God, John. What brought that on, not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"I just wanted to say I was sorry for the way I was acting this morning."

"You don't have to do that. I'll take the bad right along with the good. Besides, John…I guess I love you."

John gulped that was more that he had thought he'd hear, and he wasn't sure how to respond. Finally he smiled, and Bobby absently patted his shoulder.

"Not that I expect you to feel the same."

"As much as I can, Bobby…I do."

Bobby blushed then picked up John's hand.

"I feel like I ought to get you a ring."

He flinched a little remembering that John always wore his wedding ring. He glanced down, at John's bare hand. The ring was gone. Panic engulfed him and Bobby glanced around at the floor looking for it before John noticed it was missing. John tugged his arm.

"It's in my journal. I took it off yesterday. Its okay Bobby, I felt it was time."

"Then you'll wear mine?" Bobby asked.

John swallowed again.

"Yeah…"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

The Plague Pt 5

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) ***Extra Warning: Angst and Sammy battering in this part *** and of course ensuing hurt/comfort sex.

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

My thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the great beta on the story.

A week later Sam and Dean were on the highway to Kansas City, actually they were sitting in traffic on the highway to Kansas City, but Dean supposed that was beside the point. The traffic on the 335 Freeway was at a standstill. He kept tapping his fingers against the steering wheel of the Impala in a sharp staccato beat that had nothing to do with the classic rock pouring out of the speakers. He and Sam were stuck in the stifling heat, behind a mass of glittering glass and metal. Even with the windows rolled all the way down sweat was still creeping down Dean's spine, making his shirt cling to his back.

Sam was collapsed against the seat looking every bit as miserable as Dean felt. Glancing out the window Sam motioned Dean to pull over. The older man looked in the rearview mirror and worked the car across two lanes of traffic before exiting onto the side street.

"Make a left turn and go under the freeway, I saw a cemetery back there," Sam said waving Dean in the general direction of the grassy hills visible just beyond the cement and asphalt of the highway. Dean managed to get into the turn lane, and waited at the red-light.

Spring Hill Cemetery was large, the neatly kept grounds surrounded by a high wrought iron fence and well trimmed hedges. The graves beyond the fence seemed to be divided into sections. The older graves, with their marble and granite markers toward the center section of the graveyard and the newer graves marked only with flat bronze plaques on the outer fringes. There were several recently dug graves in the new section and one grave in a small, separately fenced private family plot.

Dean glanced at the newer interments. "We can check the recent graves and see what dates they have on them."

Sam nodded.

"The news reports stated that the drivers started seeing the apparition about two weeks ago. It's only been the last few reports that have said that the drivers were hurt by the ghost though," he said as they got out of the car.

They spent the rest of the morning searching the grounds for the graves of teen-aged girls. After two hours they met at the mausoleum in the center of the cemetery's new section. Sam dropped onto the low brick wall waiting for Dean to reach the spot where he was sitting. Dean leaned back shrugging.

"I got nothing. Every one of the recent burials are all older people, three of the five are male, and the two women are over sixty. It could be another cemetery."

"Maybe," Sam replied, "But this is close to the road where the sightings have been. It could be one of the older graves, maybe something has happened to bring the girl back now, even though she's been dead awhile."

"That's going to make this thing a lot harder to track down. Looks like we need to make a trip to the newspaper, and speak to the reporter who is working the story."

Nodding Sam pulled out a packet of clippings that he had brought with them.

"The Daily Herald is the paper with the most stories, the by-line is Jerry Harrison."

"We'll go pay Mr. Harrison a visit then."

John pulled his truck into the parking lot of the Shawnee County Sheriff's Sub-Station on Southwest 21st Street, just below the hotel they had checked into an hour earlier. John pawed through a box of fake ids and badges that he kept in the glove compartment of the truck. Bobby watched as John produced two US Marshal's badges and clipped them onto the ids he had made for Bobby and himself.

Bobby took his and hefted it in one hand, the weight and feel was too much like a real badge for it to be phony.

"How'd you get these, John?"

"You'd be surprised what you can buy if you know the right people."

"I'm a little nervous about this. I haven't worked in the field for years."

"Just follow my lead. It'll be okay. Bring that manila folder with you, okay."

"Sure thing, baby."

"And Bobby, don't call me 'baby' in front of them. I don't know what the Federal Marshal's Office policy is on that, but I'm guessing it's pretty much frowned on."

"Uh, yeah, sure Marshal Dillon, sir." Bobby snapped too, and saluted as much as he could sitting in the cab of the truck. John rolled his eyes.

John opened the office door, and walked to the booking desk. He flashed the badge at the middle-aged woman sitting behind the bullet-proof glass and motioned to the other man.

"Hi, I'm John Walton, and this is my partner Bobby Darrin. We're here to talk to your watch commander about the missing transients' case you've got working."

John tried not to react when he heard Bobby snort, then cough to cover his laughter.

The woman's eyes widened and John offered her a slow smile. She blushed prettily, and John felt Bobby lean against this side. She cast him a sideways look then frowned.

"If you'll wait here, Marshal Walton. I'll see if he's available."

"Walton, John-boy?" Bobby hissed under his breath, and John nodded. Bobby grinned.

Without turning John said, "I thought you'd appreciate that."

"And Bobby Darrin? I thought she'd catch that one at least," Bobby said with a laugh. "So Dean comes by it honestly."

Chuckling John shrugged.

"I guess so, I stopped letting him do ids for me after I spent a couple of months in some little red-neck town in South Georgia telling people I was named Leslie."

"Ouch, that had to hurt."

They quieted as the female deputy came back into the room. She nodded at them both.

"The COD can't meet with you now, but said I should let you have access to the file room, for as long as you need. Follow me please."

She opened a door to a room that contained an entire wall of filing cabinets and a large conference table with padded high-backed chairs.

"There are a couple of computers in here too. I wrote down a temporary log-on password for you. Can I bring you some coffee, Marshals?"

Bobby shook his head and John smiled and said, "No ma'am but thank you, and thank the commander on duty for me, too."

"I'll just pull the relevant files for you. Please have a seat."

Sam was leaning against the side of the Impala straightening his tie in the side mirror while he waited for Dean to finish in the gas station restroom. He was dressed in the dark navy suit he wore for his FBI agent persona. Dean was changing clothes. He pushed the door open folding his leather jacket around his jeans and t-shirt.

Sam handed Dean his leather id folder and badge, and the older man tucked it into his suit pocket. The Daily Herald office was around the corner from the Chevron station and not too far from a mediocre hotel they had checked into as soon as they got off the freeway.

It was almost closing time and Sam had thought that was the best time to try and speak to the reporter who had written the stories.

A nice looking younger woman was seated at a desk in the front office, and both young men tried hard not to stare at her. A few younger women had survived the plague and the news reports suggested that they were infertile for some reason, and therefore immune to the disease. Sam had meant to do some research on that aspect of the plague but his personal life kept getting in the way. He was also keeping a close watch on the battle going on in Washington DC regarding the efforts of pass the Increased Population laws pending in congress.

Dean was standing in the doorway casting a worried look at his younger brother while he waited for Sam to catch up to him. He lowered his voice and whispered,

"You okay, Sammy? I need you sharp on this thing."

"I'm all right, Dean. Don't worry about me; I just got a little distracted that's all."

"Yeah, well Sammy getting distracted on a hunt can get you or me dead."

"I'll keep up. Let's just do this thing, okay?" Sam snapped.

He grunted rubbing a hand across his belly. His period was almost finished, and the pain was much less than it had been but he noticed that when he got nervous or angry it returned. Dean glanced down, and took a deep breath. Sighing Sam followed his brother to the elevator, then leaned back against the wall. He glanced at the flashing lights as the floors slipped past. Sam was angry that he seemed to be having a much worse time adjusting than his Dad.

John was older, had totally ignored his female side, and therefore should have had more mental adjustments to make. And added to that he had technically been a virgin yet he had adapted to his relationship with Bobby with far more ease than Sam was adapting to sleeping with Dean. But truthfully Dad didn't have the whole incest thing to deal with, unless Bobby was related to them somehow, and Sam didn't think so.

What Sam couldn't understand was the ease with which John had accepted his arrangement with Dean. Something about that was deeply troubling to him. It was completely out of character for John. But Dad was pretty much entirely out of character right now, so Sam was having a hard time pinning down the reasons for his actions. Dean on the other hand seemed to be taking it all in stride, as usual. Of course, Dean was the king of going with the flow, so no big surprises there.

The elevator stopped and both young men stepped out. The Daily Herald offices were in the corner suite on the fifth floor. An elderly lady was sitting at the reception desk and she smiled at them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

With a smile Dean flashed the badge at her.

"Hi, I'm Agent Harper and this is Agent Matheson, we're here to speak to a Jerry Harrison? Is he available?"

The woman nodded briskly, and motioned to a door at the far end of the corridor.

"Mr. Harrison is in the newsroom. Right that way."

Sam followed his brother to the door, pausing as Dean introduced himself to the reporter who turned out to be an elderly man dressed in bright orange plaid golf pants and a white polo shirt. Dean glanced at the garish figure and shot Sam a look.

"Mr. Harrison, my partner and I just wanted to ask you some questions regarding several stories that recently appeared in the Herald that had your by-line. Stories about the young woman seen on Highway 335."

Harrison turned a baleful glare on the two younger men, and then snorted.

"Just why does the FBI have any interest in a throw away story like that?"

Dean smiled again.

"We're working on some kidnapping cases, and the victims were all young women. They were moved across states lines so the FBI has jurisdiction."

The older man paused but seemed placated.

"If I cooperate I want an exclusive interview with you and your partner if you break the case."

"Absolutely," Dean replied smoothly.

Sam offered Harrison a smile, and nodded. He didn't feel up to this, and just let Dean do his thing. Settling into a chair he watched as the older man pulled several file folders out of a cabinet and passed them to his brother.

"The girl seems to appear only to men who are traveling alone. The first two men who reported seeing her weren't harmed in any way; they said that they saw a girl standing beside the road, and both men picked her up. One was a pastor from a local church and he told police that the girl asked to be taken to a vacant house. He didn't want to leave her and insisted that she let him take her to a church group home for runaways. But when he turned around to get her to agree she had just vanished. He reported her as a missing child."

Dean looked at the typed statement from a Reverend Fred Rodriguez. Passing the paper to Sam he turned back to the second sheet Harrison pushed across the desk.

"And the second man?"

"A truck driver, Pete Freely, he also picked the girl up, and tried to take her to a local shelter for abused women. But said she insisted on going to the house. When they got there he got out of the truck to open the door, and she was gone. Vanished without a trace."

"What about the other men, the ones that were hurt."

"Hurt, they were damned near killed. All three men ended up in the hospital. I can't say why because they refused to give any kind of statement, to me or to the police except to say they had picked up a girl hitch-hiking on the freeway."

"Did you get a description of the girl?"

Harrison nodded looking perplexed.

"That's the odd thing. All of the men described the same girl, said she was a real beauty. And her description matched several girls who are missing, but the one who actually did a sketch with the police artist, well the girl was a dead ringer for Missy Holloway."

"This girl missing?"

"Nope," Harrison said, "She's stone cold dead. Has been for fifty years. What has this got to do with your kidnapping case?"

"Well, since this uhh…Missy Holloway is dead probably nothing. I'm sorry but we're probably wasting your time, but just on the off chance that this girl may be one of our missing kids do you have a copy of that artist's sketch?" Dean smiled at the older man.

Harrison shuffled through the piles of papers on his desk, and handed him a Xerox copy of a drawing of a girl's head.

Back at the car Sam tucked the sketch into a folder.

"So we head to the library and check obits on Missy Holloway."

"Yeah, I'm betting she's our girl." Dean checked his watch. "It's after five. The library is probably closed. We can try the newspaper archives, but I'd say they're probably about to close up shop too. We might as well head to the hotel and hole up there. We'll get this thing straightened out tomorrow."

Sam nodded. They hit the drive through and went back to the hotel. Sam settled on the bed with his laptop beside him.

"Hey, Dean, I was able to pull up some old newspapers stories. Missy Holloway was fifteen at the time of her death in 1956. She drowned in a pond at their family farm. Nothing suspicious about the death, at the time."

"So what are you thinking, Sam? Daddy killed her and she's got it out for men? That doesn't explain why she waited fifty years to get around to it."

Dean frowned. Sam shot his a look over the top of the computer, and shrugged.

"I'm guessing that it actually has very little to do with the fact that they were men. Two of the men were not harmed at all, why?" he said turning to Dean.

"They offered to help her. Maybe the other three got too touchy feely, came on to her and she blasted them."

"That still doesn't explain why she waited until now? Unless it has something to do with the plague," Sam said, closing the computer. Dean settled on the bed beside him.

"That's possible. Maybe the two guys she didn't try to kill were like you and Dad. If she was attacked by a man she might not have hurt them, especially if they were more female now."

Sam winced.

"We're not more female, Dean. We are the same physically as we've always been, just producing different hormones. I mean our female parts are more functional than before, but overall we're still the same…"

"Okay, whatever, Dude."

"But I suppose that might be true. You noticed it, Dad and I do have a more female scent or something. I guess a ghost might notice it on other hermaphrodites as well."

Nodding Dean patted Sam on the leg.

"That's it then. We'll head out to Highway 335 after midnight tonight, see what we turn up."

"Dean, I've been thinking…"

"God, why do I not like the sound of that?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Dean, come on. Why did you decide to do what you did?"

"I'm not following you Sammy," Dean said not looking up.

Sam put his fingers under his brother's chin and lifted his head. Dean shrugged him off.

"You know exactly what I mean. Why start this thing between us? Do you feel like that about me? I've never noticed it before."

"Sammy, if it wasn't me then they might pick you up and ship you off to some strange guy. I wanted to protect you from that. It's not like it's killing me to do it."

"Why is this so much harder for you and me? Beside the whole incest thing. Dad and Bobby seem to be doing better."

Dean grinned.

"That's 'cause Dad and Bobby were already in love with each other. Why do you think Dad worked so hard at keeping Bobby away? Because he knew it was just a matter of time before he gave in, and ended up sleeping with Bobby."

Dean settled down rubbing Sam's shoulders. Sam leaned back into his brother's warm, strong hands. He sighed.

"It doesn't bother you, the incest part of it?" Sam waved his arm between the two of them. "It's against the law, did you know that? If they find out that we're brothers."

"Nobody'll find out. I don't give a damn about it being illegal. That only applies to other people. We're Winchesters; those things don't apply to us."

"God, you and Dad. What the hell makes you both think that Winchesters are above the law?"

"Because we put our lives on the line killing things that most people don't even want to believe exist. We fight evil, real evil. We try to make things right for people. Please, Sammy let's not do this right now. We got to lay this ghost to rest."

Even though it was close to midnight John was eating pizza and reading through the police files he had stolen from the sheriff's station earlier. Bobby was horrified that the rows of photographs of mangled bodies laid out across the formica table-top didn't seem to have any effect on the other man's appetite. John washed the pizza down with a gulp of beer, and pushed one of the photos over to Bobby.

"Those look like teeth or claws?"

Bobby squinted at the picture. The photographs were poorly lit and grainy black and white film. Preliminary photos taken by the deputies themselves, not the better quality pictures the CSIs would have taken when they arrived on scene. But they had to work with what they had.

And truthfully there wasn't much left inside the man's body cavity. But the long gashes running across the remaining part of his abdomen looked distinctly claw-like not bite marks. Bobby picked up the photo then dropped it on the table.

"I'd say claws, not teeth. They rake across and they're definitely not puncture wounds like teeth would make."

John nodded.

"That's what I thought. I'm going with werewolf on this one. Look at the dates of death, all about one month apart."

"I'll check dates of the full moon, but it looks right. Looks like the killings are following the lunar cycle." Bobby shoved the photo back into the file, and glanced down at his half-eaten food. He grimaced, and John laughed.

"You just have to not let it get to you. I think I have a cast-iron stomach. Nothing makes me sick."

The older man smiled.

"Good, when you get pregnant, we won't have to worry about you having morning sickness."

John finished off his beer, and Bobby took the bottle from him. John shot him an annoyed glare, but the older man smiled.

"That reminds me, no more beer for you. No alcohol of any kind."

"I'm not pregnant yet," John grumbled.

Bobby held up a hand.

"Doesn't matter, John-boy. You have to start thinking like you are, and that means no more hunting either. This one is the last one until the baby is born."

Sighing John looked longingly at the rest of the cold bottles glistening on the table.

"We've got three days until the next full moon. In the morning we can scout out Langley Road. That's were the last two bodies were found. The other one was not too far. It seems like the place where all the homeless men tend to congregate."

"Easy pickings for a werewolf. No family members filing missing persons reports. So we go out there and see what we can find."

"There's not enough information in the police reports to even begin tracking down a possible suspect. So we have to do this the hard way." John replied.

Bobby glanced at him.

"Meaning one of us gets to be bait."

John nodded.

"I'll do it. I'm a lot faster than you are."

"Yeah, but aren't you still …bleeding?" Bobby asked, making vague waving motions in the direction of the other man's abdomen.

"No, besides what has that got to do with anything? It doesn't make me slower."

"I thought maybe it made you tired or something."

"Nope, no side effects at all."

"Except the being a bitch part," Bobby mumbled under his breath.

John cast a sideways glance at the other man eyes narrowed.

"What was that?"

"Uh, nothing," Bobby swallowed.

John slid his chair back and began stripping for bed. Bobby followed.

"You know John the hotel has a hot tub, down by the pool. I think the gate is locked but I can jimmy it with a knife. We can let ourselves in."

John cocked his head.

"Its ninety degrees at midnight why would we want to get in the hot tub?"

"I can think of a reason…"

"Bobby, that's awful public. What if someone sees?"

Dean lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. He could still hear the slow trickle of water that seemed to be the best that the shower could muster. Finally, the water shut off and a few minutes later Sam came out of the bathroom. He crawled across the bed, pulling up the blankets and settled next to his brother.

Dean slid a hand beneath Sam's shoulders wincing at the slightly moist feel of his skin. Even though the younger man seemed to have toweled off his hair, the humidity left a moist clamminess on his skin. Brushing his fingertips over Sam's shoulder he rose up on one elbow and stared down at the other man.

With a sigh Dean leaned forward pressing his lips against the soft skin of Sam's neck, letting his lips map the contours of his jaw and cheek.

Sam's voice was hushed as Dean pressed forward sliding both hands around the younger man's shoulder and dragged him closer. His lips closed on Sam's silencing him very effectively as he thrust his tongue deeply into the other man's mouth. Sam warmed to the kissed and wrapped his hands around Dean's shoulders, hanging on for dear life.

When they finally parted for air Sam gasped, "Why this, now?"

"I want to give this to you, Sam. I want to be there for you, protect you."

"Can't you just do it because you love me," Sam muttered as Dean tongued the tight arch of his jaw then nipped down the slender column of Sam's neck.

Pausing Dean replied, "Of course I love you, you're my brother, Sam."

"If we do this I want to be more than just a responsibility, more than just your brother." Sam quickly rose holding out a hand to still Dean's protests.

Dean stroked his fingertips up Sam's slim, hard-muscled leg to his crotch then back down, before finally tangling his fingers in the thick nest of dark curls around the hard length of his penis. He lightly flicked his fingers over the rigid shaft feeling it twitch under his touch.

Gasping Sam arched his back like some giant cat, murmuring soft encouraging words to Dean urging him to do more than touch, to take as well. Their hands tangled together and then Dean finally pushed the other man down, almost falling on top his prone body.

Sam moaned as his brother mapped his long, lean body with hands and tongue. Letting his fingers trail firmly down Sam's abdomen Dean slipped his hand between Sam's legs stroking over his cock and dipping his fingers inside the warm cleft beneath.

Sam's body parted easily, greedily sucking Dean's fingers inside. He twisted them and Sam barked out a sharp curse, back arching off the bed.

When Sam was finally shuddering and moaning with need, Dean mounted him, sinking his aching cock inside that tight, hot channel. With a long shuddering breath Sam thrust his hips upwards, meeting the other man, forcing a deeper penetration and groaning in pleasure.

There were no other sounds but the gentle murmuring of Dean and the slap of flesh against flesh until Sam threw his head back, crying out as his body contracted around Dean's. Each tiny wave flooding his senses with pleasure. Sam's orgasm pulled Dean's own climax from him in shuddering, gasping waves of pleasure until last he dropped on the hot, sweaty body under him. They lay tangled together, the humid air drying the sweat on their bodies.

The fence was haphazardly built and the lock presented no real problems for a man of Bobby's lock picking skills. Glancing over his shoulder he noticed that the office lighting was low and unless someone was looking directly at the pool enclosure they would most likely never see anyone inside. The parking lot was mostly empty and for the most part the rooms looked dark. Either the lights in the room were off completely or just peeking out from behind drawn curtains. He motioned John through the gate and pushed it closed.

The water was tepid, but they didn't dare turn on the jets for fear of somebody hearing and coming to investigate, and as much as Bobby wanted to make love to John in the hot tub he did not want to get arrested for public indecency, just the idea of calling the boys to come bail them out of jail was enough the send a shiver running down his spine. They'd never hear the end of it.

Bobby stripped out of his jeans and shirt and set them far enough away from the Jacuzzi to keep dry. John was already out of his clothes and in the water. He stretched languidly settling on the pool shelf. Bobby eased into the water and settled beside the younger man with a sigh. The sky was clear, a multitude of stars shimmering overhead and he leaned back sliding one arm around John's shoulders and pulling him close. They sat side by side heads resting against the hard cement.

Bobby stroked John's arm.

"I used to love nighttime, until I found out what was in it."

"I still love it. There's nothing in dark that ain't there in the daylight, too. You know that Bobby. People just think that all the things that go bump do it in the night. That's not how it is, evil is out there all the time."

"I know, Johnny. I don't want to think about that now. I brought you down here 'cause I wanted to make love to you."

"I know," John said quietly. Bobby glanced at him.

"Not the right time? Cause we can just sit here awhile."

"Have you thought about where this is all going to end? I mean Dean and I sort of rushed us all into this because of that law, because they wanted to breed us like animals. But I'm not just going to get pregnant and that's the end. We're going to end up with a baby."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that part out. I mean pregnant usually ends up with popping out a baby."

"That's not what I meant. The things that go bump in the night aren't gonna just go away. That demon is still out there. It was hard enough raising the boys, being somebody's daddy as well as hunting. How the hell am I gonna be somebody's mama and do it."

Bobby caught John's chin in his hand, and turned his head so that they were face to face.

"One big difference Johnny-boy this time you don't have to do it alone."

Bobby slid down until the water reached his shoulders. John leaned against him letting his head drop on Bobby's arm. He smiled.

Sam came awake slowly. His mouth felt dry and he was pretty sure that Dean was drooling on the back of his head. With a grimace he shoved against his brother's chest, and shuffled out of bed. Dean rolled over grunting and yawned.

They spent the day at the library going through back copies of the Herald, and several other newspapers. Sam finally came across the obituaries for Missy Holloway and her parents. And a news story on her drowning. Nothing about the girl's death seemed remotely odd. Both her parents lived normal lives and from their obituaries died of natural causes. If Missy's father or any other male relative killed her, there was no hint of it in any written account. They did, however, find out that she was buried in a small church cemetery just a few miles away.

"Well, I say we do a quick salt and burn at the cemetery. If she hates men, she'll show up when we get there. You just stay back and let me do the digging. You can cover me with a shotgun if she does get nasty."

"Okay, seems quick and easy," Sam said with a nod. They closed the books and headed out to the car. Dean drove to the church and they scouted the cemetery. It took just a little over an hour to find the Holloway family burial plot and check out Missy's grave.

All of the family graves were neglected. Either the Holloways had all died out and left no one to tend their plot or the remaining family members just didn't give a damn. Dean always found it a little sad when the graves were so unkempt. He and Sam spent the afternoon sitting under a shade tree in a pasture across from the graveyard, checking their weapons and making sure that they had everything that they needed for the night's work.

Dean was reasonably sure that no one would bother them later. He and Sam had sat there for hours and not seen one car pass by. Even the little office building for the cemetery remained closed and locked.

It was just after the sun set that Sam and Dean made their way across the street and into the small silent graveyard. The pathetic little family plot was even more depressing in the pale twilight. Dean dumped the bag he was carrying down onto the ground and motioned Sam back. Picking up a pick-axe Dean broke the hard earth over Missy Holloway's final resting place.

Sam settled back against a tree shotgun hanging loosely in his arms. He watched his brother's broad back as he lifted and bent methodically emptying the grave. After about forty minutes of hard digging Dean leaned back resting on the handle of the shovel. Sam walked a few paces away from the tree looking off into the distance for cars along the road. He saw a flicker of movement and turned back to the grave. Dean was now so far down into the ground that all Sam could make out of him was the back of his head. Without bothering to call out to his brother Sam walked the fifteen or so yards to the road and glanced around for the source of the disturbance.

She was waiting for him. Pale, silvery and grim faced in the failing light. Missy had been a beauty without a doubt, so pretty that Sam's heart ached for her. She turned on him and the expression on her face was blank and cold. Taking a step forward Sam let the gun drop into his left hand.

"You don't have to hurt them, you know," he said softly.

Missy turned cocking her head. A grim smile spread over her face. Sam took a step forward; wanting to distract her from Dean, from what was happening in her grave.

The girl's spirit flickered, brightening then growing pale in the clear summer air.

"It's not fair," she whispered.

Sam frowned, they almost never spoke.

"It's never fair when you die young, sweetheart. But it happens. Is there a reason why you hurt those men? Did your Daddy do this to you, hurt you in any way?"

Missy looked at him.

"My Daddy loved me very much. I hated those people because it's not fair…"

"What's not fair?" Sam asked.

Suddenly he found himself slammed against the asphalt. The shotgun spun out of his fingers clattering on the cold hard road. Missy was on him in a second, face pale and twisted in rage. Sam cried out as she sank her slim fingers into his chest, nails raking gouges in the flesh.

"You and all your kind. It's not fair you get to be a man; you get to do all the things a man can do, and is it enough? No! You get to be a girl too. You get to have a husband and children. I never had that. I never had a chance to fall in love, to get married, to hold a baby in my arms. You'll never have it either."

Sam groaned trying to roll, to twist out of her grip, but the ghost's hands were like iron, clawing and raking at his skin. His shirt parted under the clutching fingers, and blood welled on his chest. Sam groaned again.

"Hey bitch, get off my brother," Dean's voice ripped through the air.

Missy jerked upward, hands slipping off Sam and turned. Her eyes raked over the older man and she smiled, almost preening. Dean could see the gleam in her eyes. He raised the shot gun he had picked up and fired. The rock salt ripped through the ghost's body scattering her.

Running over Dean pulled Sam off the ground. He slid one hand under his brother's shoulder and half carried him back to the grave. Missy was waiting for them but Dean had her bones uncovered, and Sam could see the rough rock salt crystals scattered over the remains.

Gasoline glittered in the moonlight and Dean struck a match. If she knew what was coming Missy didn't show it. She made no overt movements just stared in dumb disbelief as Dean dropped the match and her bones ignited.

She cast one more hate-filled glance at Sam then tilted back her head, and screamed. The sound wavered on the faint breeze fading as the bones fell to ash. They filled in the grave together. Sam was quiet as Dean drove the Impala back to the hotel. Finally, he turned to the older man and offered him a weak, half-hearted smile.

"She was right, Dean. It's not fair. But it's what we've got."

"Yeah, it's all we've got Sammy. You, me, Dad and Bobby. We're all we've got."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

The Plague Pt 6

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) More Sammy battering, just a bit.

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

My grateful acknowledgement to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta work on the story.

Three days later they were on the hunt. The air had cooled as the day wore on. Night was falling and Bobby paced a few steps from John's truck, leaning the shot-gun he carried on his forearm. John was loading his Glock with silver bullets. The shot-gun Bobby carried was loaded with hand-packed blessed shells packed with silver buck-shot. They were armed for werewolf but the ammo would take out almost anything undead.

They were half way down Langley Road between the interstate and a ragged, tent city populated mostly by homeless men. Bobby and John had surveyed the camp earlier, and noted that the tents were all empty. Whatever had killed four of their ranks had scared the men enough that they were sleeping somewhere else. That made this easier for the hunters, but also concerned Bobby. Using John as bait didn't sit very well with him, but they were out of choices.

Tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans John joined the older man. Bobby brushed a hand over his shoulder, and then leaned in and kissed John firmly on the mouth. John leaned his cheek against Bobby's hand. Bobby looked grim.

"John, you be quick. I mean it. And don't get too far out my range of vision. This shot gun has limited range, and no sight."

"I know. I'll stay about fifteen yards away. We've got the full moon so light's no problem.

I'll bring it this way. You just keep a look out for me."

Bobby faded back off the pavement, into a small clump of brush. He watched as the other man walked briskly down the shoulder and stopped just at the bend in the road. He turned looking back at the truck a few feet away, and then cocked his head listening.

The forest was oddly silent. The normal night noises that always signaled an active wildlife area were absent, a sure sign that something abnormal was out there. The wind was still, which made it all the more easy to hear any movement. Bobby could pick out the faint clocking of John's boot heels on the asphalt. Something caught Bobby's attention and he turned. The underbrush rustled about mid-way between his position and the other man. Bobby huffed out a breath and eased into a squat, bracing his elbow on one knee, watching for any signs of further movement. If John had caught the faint noise, he didn't react. Bobby felt his stomach clench in fear.

John turned; head tilted to one side, and saw Bobby drop down. His senses screamed that something was happening. He eased the gun out of his pants, and held it tightly against his side. With a ragged indrawn breath he whirled, trotting back down the road toward the truck as if he had not felt the shiver of fear along his spine.

When he was just past the half-way mark between his starting point and Bobby's position John heard the rustling of underbrush before he saw the creature erupt out of the trees. He jerked around bringing the gun up and firing once. But the thing was a lot closer to him than John had thought and the shot went wide. The werewolf skidded to a halt, muzzle dripping foam, and then jumped forward covering the ground between it and John in one long leap.

John staggered a step backwards knowing that he was too slow, and that the werewolf was going to hit him. The sound of thunder roared in his ear, and he felt the wind as the shot gun blast cleared the left side of his head and struck the werewolf dead center in the chest. It yelped hitting the ground hard, rolling up onto all fours.

Before the creature could run John had the Glock up, and fired one round into its back. The silver bullet hit the werewolf's spine and it yelped again, growling as its legs went out from under it. John stepped closer and pulled the trigger again. The back of the werewolf's head blew out in a shower of brain and bone.

They didn't even bother trying to move it. John washed the body down with gasoline, and lit it right in the center of the road. The fire caught quickly. The two men stood watching as the mortal remains of the werewolf burned down into ash. Bobby scattered the few larger clumps of ash and bone as John loaded the gas can in the back of the truck.

John was strung out; hands shaking with adrenaline making the gas can clatter against the truck-bed. That was the only excuse he could think of for not hearing the other man clamber into the truck behind him. Bobby grabbed a fist full of John's shirt and tugged. He slid across the cold metal and into Bobby's arms. John yelped in indignation, but before he could voice his complaints at being man-handled so roughly Bobby's mouth and hands were doing things to him, making him hot and horny. And when the cold metal was against his bare back John couldn't think to complain because nothing in world was as remotely important as Bobby's mouth on his, and Bobby's hard, hot cock buried deep inside of him.

It was two weeks after they had killed the werewolf that John and Bobby finally rolled into the driveway of Bobby's place. They had stayed in Topeka, despite the APB issued by the Shawnee County Sheriff's Department for two persons, unknown, who alarmingly matched their descriptions. Bobby nearly had a heart attack when he saw the newscast on TV, but John merely scoffed.

Then they ran into a poltergeist in bowling alley, of all things. They had spent four days getting rid of the nasty little bastard and discovered two important things; one, neither of them could bowl worth a damn, and two, bowling balls made excellent missiles, especially when hurled at forty-five miles per hour by angry spirits.

But Bobby was becoming increasingly worried about John who seemed to be ill. He was exhausted beyond anything that the older man could remember and seemed particularly prone to falling asleep at three o'clock in the afternoon everyday. He had also been complaining that everything he ate left a funny 'taste' in his mouth and had taken to sucking on peppermint hard candies just to clear it away. But the final straw, as far as Bobby was concerned, was this morning when he had had to pull the truck over while John puked his guts out on the shoulder of the freeway.

The Impala was in the driveway of Bobby's house when he pulled the truck into a spot on the grass and cut the engine. John was asleep in the seat beside him and Bobby shook him awake. He stepped out of the truck stretching and grunting as his back popped. Together they unloaded their stuff out of the back of the truck and went into the house. It was quiet and at first the older men thought that Sam and Dean had gone for a hike when Dean appeared at the door to the rear bedroom. He shrugged into his t-shirt and John made it a point not to look too closely as Sam followed. Until he noticed the red welts lining his younger son's chest.

"You okay, Sammy?" John asked. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, a ghost with an attitude. That's all. I'm fine. So how'd it go?"

Bobby offered him a faint smile.

"Werewolf, quick and easy. And a poltergeist with a mean curve ball, not so quick and easy. You boy's get the spirit?"

"Salted and burned her ass," Dean said, "We've been looking in the papers, but nothing jumped out at us. You guys see anything else?"

"Nada," John said helping himself to a glass of whiskey, but before he could take a sip Bobby caught his arm, and relieved him of the shot glass.

"I told you no more booze, Johnny."

Both boys stepped back waiting for the shit to hit the fan. But John sighed surrendering the bottle as well.

"Yeah, yeah I heard you."

With a slight smile John walked to the kitchen.

"I'm going to see if I can rustle something up for lunch, I'm starving."

"The way you were puking this morning it's no wonder. You boys do any grocery shopping?" Bobby asked.

Dean just shrugged and offered him a quick grin.

"Sorry, we've been doing take-out. I'm up for lunch, maybe that burger joint that's not too far down the way."

John touched his stomach and grimace.

"Nothing too greasy. I think I picked up a touch of the flu or something."

The Sonic Drive-In on Baxter Street was probably one of last remaining burger restaurants in Kansas that still had waiters and waitresses on roller-skates. It was an amazing thing to see; cars pulled up into the covered slots around the central building with young people clad in red t-shirts and white shorts whipping around on skates, bearing trays. It really brought out some nostalgic feelings in John and Bobby.

Although the novelty of actually trying to eat in a car had long worn off for them all, so they opted for eating in the restaurant itself. The bright lighting cast a garish glow on the red leatherette padded benches surrounding heavy wooden picnic tables, but they found a booth in the corner by the jukebox, and settled in.

There was sawdust on the floors and between the classic rock pumping out of the jukebox and the steady rumble of the crowd Bobby had to half-yell just to be heard. He decided on the Sonic's world famous scrambled burger which turned out to be a pile of crumbled ground beef cooked with green peppers and onions, mixed with steak sauce and slapped on grilled sour-dough bread under several slices of melted cheese. Sam looked aghast at the thing as the older man pointed it out on a passing waiter's tray.

Sam slid out of the booth and headed to the restroom. Dean watched him cross the room and disappear down a side hall. After what had happened to John they were all more cautious now. When no one followed Sam or paid him any attention they all breathed a little easier.

The door was closed and locked and Sam leaned back against the wall, trying to keep the hall clear for the staff as they passed back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room. The door finally opened and a short, good looking guy stepped out. He cast a glance at the younger man's tall, lean form. With a sly smile he sidled up to Sam.

"Hey, baby. You new around here?"

"Oh god, please don't even start. I'm not in the mood for this."

The guy slid closer to Sam and draped an arm a around his waist. Sam glared at him.

"Dude, you are seriously making the worse mistake of your life."

With a snort the other man reached out to squeeze Sam's butt. Taking a deep breath Sam grabbed his arm, and jerked him around. He brought his foot down hard on the guy's instep, and then snapped his elbow back into the other man's crotch. The air went out of the man's body with a grunt, and Sam brought his knee up while driving the guy's head down at the same time. His knee impacted the other man squarely in the forehead and he went down hard.

Rubbing his knee Sam limped into the bathroom. After he was finished he stepped over the guy's unconscious body and ambled back to the table. He settled down and idly rubbed his knee. Dean looked down.

"Sammy, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just whacked my knee against something. I'm fine."

With a sigh he picked up his glass, looking over the top as the guy who had bothered him finally staggered out of the hallway. He took one look at Sam and the other men at the table and gave them a wide berth as he headed to a booth with a few other people.

John noticed the guy scramble away from their table and frowned, but said nothing. Sam smiled.

"Hey, Dad, I don't think I ever said thank you."

John looked at his younger son confusion clearly written on his face.

"Okay, uh…what are you thanking me for?"

"Oh, just for stuff. Just thank you."

Bobby glanced at the younger man, then back at the guy whose face looked like he had run into a Mac truck and come out on the losing end.

"That the guy that messed with you? The one you whacked your knee into?" he asked.

Sam shrugged and Dean leaned over to glare at the guy, but Sam grabbed his arm.

"I don't need you defending me, Dean."

John grinned.

"No I'd say you did a hell of a job on your own. May be the guy'll learn some manners, huh? Not go around picking fights with folks he doesn't know. You did a hell of a lot better than I did."

"There were three of them Dad, and they hit you from behind. I couldn't have done it without all those days of PT you drilled into us. Maybe you were right, some of the time."

"Just some of the time? Its okay, Sam, I'll take it." John smiled. "Still it looks like things are settling down."

Dean grinned.

"You're just saying that because guys aren't hitting on you right and left anymore."

"Well, they're not trying to rape me anymore either. Maybe I'm losing my sex appeal."

John sighed dramatically and Bobby patted him consolingly on the back.

They spent the rest of the day running errands, and working around the house. They spent a quiet evening just kicking back and watching TV. Dinner was quick and light eaten on the front porch as the sun faded behind the slight rise of hills just beyond the vacant fields bordering Bobby's place.

John sighed tapping his finger against the calendar. Four weeks since his last period. He didn't feel that same sinking sensation that he had gotten the last time. Maybe he was just getting used to this all now. He stood in front of the kitchen window surveying his body, no cramps not an inking of the usual hostility that marked this time of the month. He grinned, he was getting the hang of this female thing, and it was turning out to be a snap. Maybe Sammy was adjusting too. It would be nice not have the same screaming fights he and his youngest son had had since this thing all blew up on them.

Quickly he went to the fridge and got out the makings for omelets. He began slicing and dicing peppers and onions, then yelled over his shoulder,

"Hey Bobby, come cook bacon for me. I'm doing omelets."

"Sure thing, honey," Bobby said with smirk, "So, Johnny uh…why aren't you…It's just that this time last month I was ducking for cover. Why aren't you being a bitch?"

"I think I got this thing down pat, that's all," Johns said turning as Bobby plopped a large slab of meat into a huge cast iron skillet.

Suddenly the scent of frying bacon filled the air. John took a step backwards, his face twisting into a grimace, and Bobby thought he had spoken too soon. The other man bolted from the kitchen and Bobby could hear the bathroom door slam shut. He set the pan aside and quickly followed John down the hall. He grunted as the sound of retching carried through the closed door. He finally tapped on the wood when the water ran in the sink.

"Baby, you okay?"

John opened the door and cast a quick glance at Bobby's worried face.

"I'm okay. It's the greasy smell caught me the wrong way. Let's finish up breakfast, I want to get my guns checked over and cleaned. We may come up with another job."

"I don't think so, John. You've been sick for almost two weeks now, time to see a doctor."

"It's just the flu, maybe that time of the month. I'll give it a week, you know until my period's done."

"You're not bleeding yet," Bobby said slowly. John shrugged.

After they had finished eating, Sam came storming out of the bedroom face set in a scowl.

"God, Dean is the most annoying person on the face of the earth." He turned on John. "Why didn't you and Mom believe in abortion?"

John's mouth dropped open. He winced as Dean slammed the refrigerator door open and poured orange juice into a glass.

"Come on, Sam, lighten up! You'd be a whole lot easier to deal with if you just grew a sense of humor."

Sam growled,

"Look at the people I live with, what I have to have a sense of humor about. Between you drooling all over my head and the two of them humping like dogs in heat…"

"All right young man, that's more than enough," John snapped rising out of his seat, Sam shoved his father back against the wall, and Bobby waded into the fray.

"Don't you put your hands on your Daddy, boy."

"Oh no, you do that enough for all of us."

Dean grabbed Sam by the arm.

"Okay, that's enough. Just watch what you say, Sammy. You're not making this easy on any of us."

Sam shook him off, and stomped out of the room. Dean watched him go and turned to the two older men.

"Are you okay, Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Bobby, I'm going out to the garage."

Dean and Bobby stepped aside and let John go. Bobby waited until he was out of sight before sitting down. Dean dropped into a chair beside him.

"Not that I'm complaining Bobby, but why is Dad not doing his Bitch Queen act this month?"

"I think he's too sick. If he isn't better by Friday I'm making him go to the doctor."

In the end he didn't have to make John go to the doctor's office. Friday afternoon when they all congregated at the kitchen table for lunch Bobby noticed that John's truck was gone. He swore a blue streak and then slammed his hand down on the table.

"I'm warning you boys right now, when your Daddy gets back I'm going to beat his ass for going out alone, again." Shaking his head Bobby sighed. "What do you have to do to that man to get him to listen?"

Sam offered his a nasty smile.

"There isn't anything you can do. Don't you know that John Winchester is never wrong?"

The clinic had been built since the plague. The halls were blandly decorated, John supposed, in an effort to make it seem non-threatening but which just made it look like one more generic government building. John had never been big on the government anyway, at least not since he left the Marines, or more probably not since he had gotten home from Vietnam. Still, the clinic had been specifically built for one reason, and John was fairly convinced that he needed it for that reason. So he sat huddled in a too small, uncomfortable chair staring at a handful of other men, and felt like a fool. He was by far the oldest man in the room, and was getting quiet a few surprised looks.

The nurse was a heavy-set woman in her late fifties and she looked slightly resentful as she led him into a small examination room. Motioning to a table with a sheet and white hospital gown she said,

"Mr. Winchester, disrobe and put the gown on opening to the front, you can drape the sheet over your lap, the doctor will be in shortly.

John wrestled with the gown, which proved to be just slightly too small for his broad shoulders, and clasped the gaping opening around his chest. He scrambled onto the table and pulled the sheet up just as there was a faint tapping on the door.

The doctor turned out to be a small, slender woman with dark brown hair. She smiled reassuringly and John relaxed slightly. He got a little less relaxed when he found out just what the exam entailed, but all in all it wasn't as bad as he had feared. She smiled when the nurse returned with the results of his urine test. The doctor smiled broadly.

"Well, congratulations Mr. Winchester, you're pregnant."

He thought he might feel strange, feel something more than he did, but he just felt relieved and then a little anxious. She could probably read his reaction on his face, and she patted his knee reassuringly.

"Don't worry. You'll do fine. I was a bit concerned about your age, at first. But you are extremely fit, and very healthy. Even so I have to put you in a higher risk category than someone younger. It'll mean more frequent appointments, and more testing I'm afraid. We'll get you and the baby through this just fine. Do you have a regular partner?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"I like to involve the father in the pre-natal visits as much possible, unless he would be uncomfortable coming with you."

Just the thought of trying to keep Bobby away made John shudder. He shot her a quick look and shook his head.

"He'll be here, doc. In fact, he'll be a damn lot happier about being here than I will."

She frowned.

"Don't you want the baby? Even with this new law I won't force you to keep the baby if you don't want it. I can arrange for the pregnancy to be terminated."

John felt his stomach clench.

"God, no. I want the baby, and I know he does."

She looked less than convinced, and he smiled.

"Really Doctor, I mean it."

"Well, I'll put your due date at November 11th. I want you on pre-natal vitamins, and no smoking or drinking. You're at a good weight for your height, so I'll give you thirty pounds, but no more. I don't think I need to worry about exercise, you look as if you stay fit."

John flushed and stammered, but she held up a hand. "Don't worry; I see no reason to curtail your sexual activity at the present. I would prefer that you avoid positions that are too stressful or tiring for you."

"No problem, he likes to be on top."

"That's everything for today; I want to see you back in two weeks. After we see how things are progressing I'll adjust your appointments as necessary."

Dean and Sam sat at the kitchen table; Sam was working on peeling a bowl of potatoes while Dean scoured the newspaper for more information on the Increased Population Initiative that had finally become law. Bobby was standing beside the kitchen sink when they heard John's truck pull into the yard.

The door opened a few minutes later, and Bobby turned around throwing the towel he was holding down onto the counter and folding his arms across his chest.

"John, after what happened to you and Sam both I thought we agreed that you two wouldn't go out alone anymore."

John frowned bristling.

"Look Bobby we aren't married. I can come and go as I please," he snapped.

Then he took a deep breath, this wasn't going like he had planned. With a grunt he backed away as Bobby took a few steps forward and caught him by the arm.

"John, are you dead set on getting yourself raped this time? After those boys had you down in that parking lot I'd have thought that you'd see reason."

"Nobody is going to rape me; they wouldn't, not now…"

Dean frowned interrupting his father.

"Remember that little talk we had about how it's a different world, Dad? I can guarantee you that if you push your luck; you'll end up, at least, getting hurt again. Where'd you go anyway?"

"I had an appointment at the clinic in town. That new one," he said blushing then turned to the older man. "Bobby, I ...uh…caught."

"What?" Bobby froze.

John shrugged offering him a tentative smile.

"I'm pregnant."

Dean and Sam gaped and Bobby's face broke into a grin. He grabbed John pulling him into a tight hug, and then gasped. Quickly he pushed the younger man toward a chair.

"God John, maybe you'd better sit down."

John rolled his eyes, "Bobby we're talking five weeks, I haven't even put on any weight. You could barely even see it."

Sam turned to Dean and smacked him on the back of the head.

"Do you know how much older Bobby is than you? Huh, why is Dad pregnant and I'm not?"

"Hey, it's not like I'm not trying, okay? Give me a break."

Bobby turned one of the chairs around straddling it. He pulled John over wrapping an arm around his hips and squeezing one buttcheek. John looked down at him with a grimace. Bobby threw his shoulders back.

"Well, I don't know Dean. What's this you said about a young man's game? Seems to me that you're gonna have to eat some crow, boy."

"Look, we'll get there. I can't be held accountable if you and Dad are over-achievers."

John grinned and Bobby shook his head.

"Maybe your boys aren't swimming up stream the right way," he said grinning.

John laughed. Dean shot them both a dirty look.

"My boys swim just fine, okay? In fact, they're in there doing a freakin' backstroke, Dude," Dean said with a grunt.

Bobby grinned a little wider and then clapped one hand over John's belly.

"I don't know, bun in the oven…" he turned to Sam. "Nothing, cookin'."

Throwing up his hands Dean sprang up from the chair grabbing Sam by the arm.

"Come on, Sam. We've got a little business to do in private."

Sam frowned.

"It's not on the schedule, Dean. You're throwing off our rhythm"

John looked at his younger son.

"Schedule, what the hell do you mean schedule? You guys schedule when you…you know."

Sam sighed.

"Of course, I bought this book on the best way to conceive. It has flow charts, all right? And it's all very scientific with the optimal times for intercourse to achieve conception."

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"No wonder you boys got nothing. You don't need any stinking book. Just do what we did. When ever the mood strikes I just toss John on his back and wham, bam, thank you ma'am. No fuss, no flowcharts. Worked for us."

Dean cringed.

"Bobby, I don't want to hear about whatever perverted stuff you two are up too, okay?"

John settled in a chair beside Sam and looked at his son.

"I never thought I'd say this, but… Bobby is right. Look, when your Mom and I first got married your Aunt Delores and Uncle Roger got pregnant right after their honeymoon. Lola couldn't shut up about the kid, and your Mom… well she was really competitive with her sister. She wanted to start a family, so she did the same thing. She got a book. And we went on the same type of schedule, six months later we got nothing, a year later…still nothing. Your Mom just about went crazy. I swear we were on the verge of getting a divorce or one us killing the other one, when we took a trip to Topeka for a Grateful Dead concert. Long story short your Mom got a little tipsy on Peach wine and we ended up in the backseat of the Impala. Nine months later Dean showed up. Bobby and I even took the old girl for a spin once, just to see if she still had the old magic."

With a grimace Dean turned to the older men.

"Aw man, the backseat of my car? Bobby do you have any Lysol?"

Later that evening John stood on the porch looking at the yellow moon hanging on the horizon. He leaned against the porch rail shivering slightly. It was cooler than he had thought and for a brief minute he contemplated going back inside for a jacket. The door swung open behind him, and John didn't turn around. If it was Bobby he'd know it soon enough. The older man hadn't stopped touching him all afternoon. Grinning John thought back to after lunch. They had gone to bed, and he fell asleep afterwards. When he woke Bobby was already working in the small room across the hall from the bedroom, pacing off distances for nursery furniture.

Sam was in an even fouler mood that usual. John felt badly about that. It wasn't his fault that Sam was born the way he was, hell John hadn't asked for it either, but it was what they had been given. He and Bobby had both apologized for teasing Dean and Sam, especially since they both could see that it was really bothering the younger Winchester.

But Sam had been in a crappy mood anyway. The others finally decided just to ride it out and hope for an improvement in the near future.

Dean settled on the porch rail beside his father, John smiled and clapped his son on the knee.

"How are you doing, son?"

"Okay, I don't know why Sammy is making such a fuss about this. So you got pregnant first, what's the big deal."

John turned around letting his back rest on the rail and put his hands in his pockets.

"Maybe it just isn't meant to be. I could have been wrong about the baby not being defective. That could be why this isn't working. Maybe you and Sammy just can't make a baby together. I just wanted to protect him, Dean. You know I sold you short too, I didn't stop to think what this might be doing to you, and I'm sorry. I should have never asked you to do this with Sammy, it was wrong."

The door rattled closed and Sam burst out onto the porch.

"I wondered why Dean did this. Where all this was coming from especially since Dean never had any interest in me that way before. God, I should have known Dad. You and all your bullshit again. Can't you just leave me and Dean alone?"

"I was just trying to protect you, Sammy. Please, I didn't want them shipping you off to some strange man, sending you somewhere that I couldn't watch over you, keep the demon away."

"So you put me in a situation worse than being with a stranger? You asked my older brother to screw me? And how sick are you, Dean? Isn't there anything you won't do for him?" Sam turned on Dean jabbing a finger into his brother's chest.

John frowned.

"Sammy, get yourself under control. It's not Dean's fault. If you're going to blame anyone blame me…"

Sam whirled. "Oh I do."

He took a step forward but misjudged and slammed into John's chest. John slipped off the rail, his foot sliding into the air, and missing the step up to the porch. His arms jerked upward as he clawed at the railing, but missed. John overbalanced and dropped heavily onto his hip and shoulder.

"Dad!" Dean screamed, "Oh god. Bobby…Bobby, Dad fell off the step."

Bobby was out of the door in a flash and down the step. He dropped to one knee and settled his hand against John's chest.

"Don't move, Johnny. Dean call 911."

John rolled onto his back, groaning.

"I'm okay, Bobby. I don't think that it's necessary."

"What happened?" Bobby asked turning to Dean.

Dean stormed over to Sam shoving him back against the front door.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do want to hurt Dad and the baby?"

Sam's face was chalky in the pale light streaming through the doorway.

"I didn't mean to do that. Look, I can't deal with all of you now. I'm leaving in the morning. Dean you're off the hook. I'll take my chances."

With a sob he fled into the house. Dean looked at him, and then down at his father. He quickly got his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

The Plague Pt 7

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) maybe some spoilers for Dead Man's Blood.

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

The paramedics had insisted on taking John to the hospital, and Bobby followed along in his truck. Dean had been sitting on the sofa in the living room since the ambulance had left. He glanced at the clock; it was just a little past midnight. He yawned; Sam had disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door firmly behind him. Dean didn't have the energy to try talking to his younger brother, so he settled back on the couch, and drifted off to sleep.

The phone rang at six, and Dean staggered to the kitchen to pick it up. He flopped down into one of the breakfast table chairs and flicked the phone on. Bobby was on the other end, and he seemed a little hesitant. Dean felt his stomach flip.

"Bobby, did Dad lose the baby?"

"No, he's fine. We're coming home as soon as I get John checked out of the hospital and loaded into the truck. He's really torn up about the fight he had with Sam though."

Sam sat on the rear of the Impala looking at the assorted collection of junk he had managed to gather on the porch of Bobby's house. It was the second time in his life that he was leaving, the second screaming fight he'd had with his father, and it was going to be the last. Dean was pissed at him Sam knew, but he couldn't muster the energy to care.

He heard the hollow clocking of boot heels on the wooden boards of the porch and didn't bother to look up. Dean walked to the rear of the car just waiting for Sam to say something. Finally, when the silence got to be too much Sam turned to him and said.

"I know what you're going to say, Dean. I'm sick and tired of Dad messing up my life."

"You're so full of shit, Sam. Dad didn't mess up our lives. Okay, he may never get a PTA award for father of the year but he did the best he could. He kept us strong, and he kept us alive. We've seen too many people die from the things we hunt, to not know it could have happened to us any time."

"Oh yeah, he kept us alive but he also kept us from living."

"Don't argue semantics with me, Sammy." With a glare Dean pulled Sam off the car, hauling him upright. "You had your shot at living. You went to Stanford you had your chance at a fairytale life, with Cinderella. And look where it got you. Did you really think that because you walked out on me and Dad that you'd get off scot-free? Well, you didn't and Jessica paid the price."

"That's not fair, Dean. All I wanted was a normal life, a home, and a family."

"That's bullshit; there are no white-picket fences for people like us, Sam. We've seen too much, we know too much. And you have a family - me, Dad and now Bobby and that baby in Dad's belly. We're your family. Dad has one last shot at a happy ending, and you or me, we're not going to take that away from him. You're not going anywhere, we're going to stay here and let him have this baby in peace."

Sam turned a grim faced look on his brother.

"And six months after the baby is born? What are we going to do when Dad is the one on the ceiling with his belly cut open and the house is burning?"

"It's not gonna happen, me and Bobby…"

"And what about me and you? If we ever manage to make a baby, are we going to go through the same thing?"

"I'm telling you Sammy, it's not going to happen. Not as long as I'm alive."

Sam relaxed visibly.

"Dean, I don't think I can do this. Growing up with Dad, just the three of us, I was always so outside of everything that you and he did. I never understood his need for vengeance. I know the two of you thought I was walking out on the family, but I wasn't. I was never a part of it to begin with. And I'm not saying that it's Dad's fault. He did the best he could. I think he bent as much as he could for me without breaking, but it wasn't what I wanted."

"Maybe it was what you needed."

Sam shrugged as he bent down picking up his duffle-bag and hauling it back into the house. Dean let out pent up breath and began collecting bags, and boxes. Between the two of them they had all of Sam's belongings back in the bedroom before Bobby's truck pulled up in the driveway.

Dean hurried to the door watching as Bobby went around and opened the door for his Dad. John slid out of the truck slowly, holding himself stiffly and limped to the door. He smiled at Dean patting his shoulder in passing. Dean got an arm around John and helped him into the room.

"Are you okay, Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just threw my back out a little. I'll be as good as new in a couple of days. The baby's fine."

Dean got John settled on the sofa and Bobby appeared with a glass of juice and a white-capped prescription bottle. He grinned at Dean.

"He'll be better than fine in a little bit. Wait until you see him stoned on Demerol. It's hilarious."

"You have a sick sense of humor, you old bastard," John snorted.

There seemed to be an uneasy truce between Sam and John after that. They didn't say much to each other but they didn't constantly hover just on the edge of violence either. John's back healed quickly and by the time of his second pre-natal check up he was feeling much better.

This time John and Bobby both tried to sit comfortably in the waiting room to the doctor's office. The couples around them were all younger and John was irked at being stared at. Finally, when yet another Generation Xer cast a strange glance in his direction John erupted.

"What are staring at, huh?"

"Johnny, don't get upset." Bobby hauled him back into his seat, and John shrugged the older man off.

"They act like we're two steps from an old folk's home or a graveyard. I am not old, damn it."

"Of course you're not old, honey," Bobby said patting him on the arm. John shot him a look that could frost an active volcano. Bobby just heaved a sigh.

The doctor was more cheerful than John thought any human being had a right to be. She took John's blood pressure and weight.

"Well, you've actually lost a little weight, are you having problems with morning sickness, or loss of appetite?"

Bobby answered before John could even open his mouth.

"Yeah, he's sick a lot. Not just in the morning either."

The doctor smiled at him.

"I'm so glad that you've decided to be an active partner in John's pregnancy, Mr. Singer."

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you don't have to live with him. But he's right I am sick to my stomach a lot."

"I'll give you a prescription for Compazine; it will help with the nausea and vomiting. It's safe for the baby, and you can take it every six hours if necessary. I'm a little concerned about your blood pressure; it's a little higher than last visit. Have you been under stress?"

"I fell off the porch and threw my back out," John said hedging a little.

Bobby shot him a look.

"And he had a huge fight with his son."

Dean settled into a chair beside Sam, finally he took the book out of his brother's hand. Sam glanced at him sighing.

"Sammy, I've been thinking, maybe Dad and Bobby are right. I think we're going about this the wrong way."

Sam offered him a sardonic smiled, and Dean whacked him on the back of the head. He continued.

"Not that, I'm pretty sure we're doing that the right way. I think we're trying too hard. Can't we start over on this thing? No books, no expectations just try to have a good time. Take it easy, you know, just go with the flow a little. See if that shakes things up. And I think we should get out of the house. I don't know why but you seem to be getting real competitive with Dad about this baby making stuff. Dad and Bobby were just kidding around and you're taking it too seriously."

"I didn't mean too. And I didn't mean to hurt Dad or the baby."

"We all know that. Bobby and Dad aren't mad. Beside Dad and the baby are fine."

That evening after dinner, the four of them sat on the porch talking. Sam and Dean were contemplating leaving again on a hunt as a way to try and work out their relationship away from the watchful eyes of their father. Also the boys felt that now early in John's pregnancy he and Bobby should have some time alone, to adjust to this new aspect of their lives. Dean was worrying over how to tell the older men that he and Sam were leaving when Bobby called him aside as John and Sam got ready for bed.

Bobby motioned for Dean to follow him into the yard.

"I have something that I wanted to ask you and Sam to do for me."

"We'll do anything, Bobby. You know that."

"Well, one thing that I'm sure of is that your Daddy isn't going to let this hunt for the demon die. Even pregnant he'd go after it if he turned up some lead on the damn thing. And I get stuck in the position of trying to protect him, and my kid. And in my way of thinking, right now that hinges on keeping him safe."

Dean smiled. "Yep, I don't envy you there. Dad's always been a real pain in the ass about maintaining the chain of command, with him at the top."

"I think I just about got him broke on that. I just make sure I stay on top," Bobby said with a grin. Dean flushed then shot the older man a look.

"TMI, dude."

"But I know what you mean this plague thing has him shook up. And being pregnant is gonna keep him off balance for a while, but he'll adjust and then it'll be back to business as usual. So I got to figure out a way to keep him, well, off balance maybe. But I've got to be subtle. I mean John is about as subtle as the proverbial bull in a china shop, so you can sneak stuff past him 'cause he doesn't play that way. You boys probably figured that early on, especially you Dean."

"Yeah, you can snooker Dad, if you're quick. But it takes skill, Bobby. And I don't have as much to lose as you do."

"You're not kidding, my partner and my kid, all in one." Bobby sighed. "Which brings us back to why I got you out here. You and Sammy need a break away from the old man. He and Sam just rub each other the wrong way. I don't want John to miscarry and Sammy is never gonna relax enough for you two to even have a decent chance at making a kid. So I've been thinking about what happens when the kid is born and John gets antsy again. I think I've got it licked. Old friend of mine and your daddy's, Daniel Elkins, has a little item that I want to get my hands on. He's in Manning, Colorado holed up, but he's looking for you boys to come by. I'm trading him a book he wants for the gun."

"Gun?" Dean asked frowning. Bobby nodded.

"Yeah, gun. It was made by Samuel Colt in the last days of the Alamo. Blessed and enchanted, and it'll kill any damn thing unearthly."

"Including the demon?"

"That's what Elkins says. I want that thing here; just in case it comes for John or the baby, maybe even Sam too."

The last remnants of the nightmare faded as Bobby gasped and came awake. He was sweating, and shaking. In his mind's eye he could still see the Impala crushed on the hood of a huge semi-truck. In the cab Dean lay in the back seat soaked in his own blood. Sam was behind the wheel, bleeding, head limp against the seat, and John was collapsed against the front passenger-side door his face slick with blood. Bobby rolled over bumping up against the warm body inhabiting the other side of his bed. He slid over until he was pressed closed against the younger man's broad back. Working his hand under the comforter Bobby slid his fingertips beneath John's t-shirt and pressed the palm of his hand against John's still flat belly. The muscles of his abdomen contracted under Bobby's gentle stroke. John slid onto his back.

Without saying a word Bobby leaned down letting his lips trail over John's jaw, sliding over his lips until his tongue could delve inside. John sighed relaxing under Bobby's fingers. When he had stopped shaking Bobby whispered against John's mouth, "Johnny, I need to be inside you."

With a smile John shuffled around until he could reach down and slip his underwear off. Bobby didn't bother striping just pushed his boxers down hissing when John's hands found his cock. John's fingers worked him until Bobby was rock heard and dripping pre-come. He rolled on top of John pressing in. John was wet, hot and when Bobby slid inside it felt like coming home.

Bobby slid his hand between them grasping the hard length of John's cock, lying tight against this belly. He knew that he was going to come fast, and he wanted to make sure that he took John with him.

Shaking from his orgasm John lay back cradling the other man on top of him, feeling Bobby's body convulse with aftershocks. He was just beginning to grow uncomfortable from Bobby's greater weight when he felt the older man shaking, and realized that Bobby was weeping. John stroked his back.

"Bobby, what's wrong?"

"Johnny, promise me that you won't leave. That when the time comes you'll let me help you. You won't go it alone."

"Bobby, I can't say…"

"No, you promise me John that you won't leave, that you won't go alone."

"All right, I promise that when the times comes, when I go after the demon you'll be with me."

Dean loaded the last of their bags in the back of the Impala. Sam was still talking to Bobby at the front door of the house when John appeared carrying a cup of coffee. He looked at the car, then at Dean. Walking down the steps he ambled over to where his older son was sitting. Dean took a deep breath.

"You boys going on a job?" John asked.

Dean grinned nodding, hoping that he could keep a straight face. His father glanced at him from under his lashes and Dean felt his stomach clench.

"Where?"

"Colorado," Dean muttered.

John took another look at him. Suddenly Dean wished that he was anywhere but Bobby's yard. He'd never been able to lie to his Dad outright and conning John took way too much effort.

"I have an old friend in Colorado; if you boys get into any trouble you give him a call. He'll set you right."

"Yeah, give me his number."

Dean fished his cell phone out of his pocket. John looked at him again then smiled.

"555 673-2114. Name's Elkins, Dan Elkins."

Swallowing hard Dean shoved the phone in his jeans and turned to the porch.

"Come on, Sammy. We're burning daylight."

Manning, Colorado, few nights later…

An elderly man sat behind the bar of a decrepit run down little roadhouse. He took a sip at the glass of amber colored liquor in front of him, and then turned as the waitress asked him a question.

Suddenly the door flew open with a bang; the few occupants of the room jerked around staring as the strangers entered. The three looked extremely out of place in the dim, rustic environs of the small out of the way bar. The woman was exquisitely beautiful dressed in tight leather that showed every curve of her body. The two men with her looked just as out of place, one tall and white with a grim face the other thick muscled and black, his bald head gleaming in the dim light. They stalked past the few tables seemingly headed straight for the bar, but when the lone waitress turned back to where the old man had sat, he was gone.

Elkins scurried through the streets not looking behind him. He made a sharp turn at the end of the pavement and climbed the dirt path to the cabin that was his home. He glanced around as he opened the door, but saw no movement anywhere.

He made it into the cabin, turning quickly to bolt the door behind him. Suddenly the door flew in and the woman from the bar stalked into the room. She smiled, slowly making sure to catch the old man's attention. Her eyes flashed yellow in the dim light.

Licking her lips she smiled.

"It's been a while; I gotta say you're looking old."

Cringing Elkins tugged a knife out of his pocket.

"What do you want?"

With a quick flick of the wrist the old man threw the knife underhanded. It struck the woman in the chest, and she glanced down with an annoyed expression on her face. Tugging the knife out of her breast she dropped it on the floor.

"What do you think?" she asked with a feral smile.

Elkins turned scrambling into the back room. With quick economical gestures he pulled a bookcase across the closed door and scurried to a wall safe. With trembling hands the old man worked the dial on the safe mumbling to himself,

"Come on…come on."

The door to the safe sprang open and he pulled out a wooden box, with shaking hands Elkins tugged the box open, drawing out the pieces of an old fashioned revolver. He hastily assembled the gun then slid one of the bullets out trying to load the revolver.

With a crash the ceiling caved in and the two men from the bar dropped into the room. Elkins looked up with a cry dropping the gun. Suddenly the door banged open, caroming off the wall with a resounding crash. The old man dropped the gun as the two men closed on him bearing him to the floor. The woman walked over picking up the weapon.

Turning to Elkin she smiled again.

"Nice gun, what the hell good do you think it would do you though?"

Tossing the weapon aside she motioned the two men forward.

"Looks like we're eating in tonight, boys."

The three fell on the old man teeth glinting in the dim light; Elkins blood welled, spilling from under their mouths.

The Bluebell Diner had been a staple in Manning since it opened in 1945. The locals kept the place open and tourists supplemented it business. The 1967 Impala was a bit out of place in the parking lot, standing gleaming in the early morning sun.

The two young men in the front booth were just as much out of place. Sam grimaced as he scrolled down newspaper articles for the past few days. Finally, he tapped the screen.

"Here it is Dean. A local man, Daniel Elkins was found dead in his home the day before yesterday. Mauled by some unknown animal."

Dean grunted sipping coffee.

"So much for Dad's friend. We need to check the place out see what we can come up with."

Dean lifted the yellow and black crime scene tape and pushed the remains of the front door of the cabin open. He ducked under the tape waiting while Sam followed him inside. He glanced at the fallen bookcase then caught sight of something on the floor. I t was a long wooden box. Inside the box was a blue velvet case with cut outs for a gun, something old fashioned from the looks of it. Along the bottom edge of the case were twelve slots containing bullets. One of the slots was empty.

Glancing around the dull gleam of metal caught his attention. With a grin Dean hurried to the fallen bookcase and shoved it aside. There on the dirty floor was a Colt revolver. It looked to be an antique but Bobby had said it was enchanted. Carefully Dean placed the gun back in the box then he and Sam left the cabin.

When they got back to the hotel Sam placed a call to Bobby. The older man answered the phone glancing back over his shoulder at John who was sleep on the couch in the living room.

"You boys find it?" Bobby asked quietly. He could hear the glee in Dean's voice.

"Yep, got it. Sam and I are going to stay the night here, then head on back tomorrow. How are things on your end?"

"Fine and dandy. Let's just keep this thing between us for now. No need for John to get involved."

Sam came out of the shower still damp with moisture. His skin glimmered in the soft yellow light and Dean smiled appreciatively. Grinning he patted the bed beside him.

"We might as well kick back a little."

Sam smiled he slid across the blankets and settled against his brother's side. Dean brushed a hand up Sam's arm then across his shoulder. With a flick of his wrist he scraped a nail gently over Sam's lips. The younger man let his tongue slide out swiping the tip of Dean's finger and the older man shivered. He leaned in letting his lips drift along the path that his finger had just taken. He stroked his tongue firmly over Sam's mouth and he opened to Dean, letting his brother in.

Dean pushed Sam down on the bed, sliding a leg between his thighs. He pressed a kiss on his brother lips as Sam tugged the buttons loose on his shirt. Shrugging the garment off, Dean leaned in dropping a kiss on his the smooth expanse of skin. Sam rolled his head back eyes falling closed. Slowly Dean worked his way down Sam's chest, until he caught the tip of Sam's cock in his mouth. Sam shivered and worked his fingers into Dean's hair moaning. Dean worked his mouth up and down his brother's dick then dipped his tongue into the wet folds beneath. When Sam stiffened his back arching off the bed Dean grinned licking the warm juices that trickled over his chin. With a sigh Dean raised up sliding over the bed and pushing his knees between Sam's thighs. He sank into Sam's warm heat with a blissful look on his face. Sam grinned, pulling his brother down for a kiss. Dean rocked gently bringing them both to orgasm in a few minutes.

After the lights were out and Sam was snuggled in bed beside the warm, hard body of his brother he grinned. Dean had been right that was so much better than schedules and worry. It felt good, clean and perfectly right.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

The Plague Pt 8

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) **Extra Warning** Relatively Plot Free this Chapter just gratuitous sex. Those of you who really hate the porn take notice…Just checking to see if you were paying attention.

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta on the story.

It was two weeks later when the Impala pulled into the driveway of Bobby's house. Dean let out a sigh glancing over at Sam. His brother was asleep in the passenger seat. Dean thought it was odd that Sam was so tired. They had found nothing interesting to catch their attention, and had only taken so long in getting home because they were taking the scenic route. Dean wondered briefly when Bobby's place had become home until he looked up at the door and his father appeared smiling. John was looking more energetic than he had when the boys left, in fact there was a glow suffusing his father's face that was startling.

Dean glanced down and covered a grin with the back of his hand. His dad was starting to show a little, at least there seemed to be a faint swelling just barely visible beneath the faded gray t-shirt the older man was wearing. Before he climbed out of the car he shook Sam's shoulder. The younger man sat up yawning hugely.

John hurried to the car.

"So you boys find what you were looking for?"

Sam started to say something but Dean hurriedly interrupted.

"We got the job done. Just a couple of ghouls - smelly and disgusting but not a problem."

He shot Sam a look over his shoulder and Sam nodded smiling vacantly. John cast them both a sideways glance but let it pass. Dean hauled his bag out of the back seat and walked up the step into the house. He looked around.

"Where's Bobby?"

"He went into town. Should be back in a little while. You boys hungry? I made lunch."

"Did you cook it?" Sam asked suspiciously.

John sighed as if he was the most put upon person in the world.

"Why are you guys, Bobby included, always bad-mouthing my cooking?"

"Dad, you once made a toaster explode."

"It was faulty wiring," John said, "I had nothing to do with it."

"You tried to put the butter on the bread before you toasted it. That is not faulty wiring, Dad."

Dean grinned at him, and then patted his father on the stomach. John had gained about six pounds but it seemed to be all settling in front making his abdomen protrude slightly.

"Hey there little guy. You're starting to show, Dad."

John glanced down.

"I am not…it's your imagination. Stop that."

Sam glared at his older brother then pulled his father into the kitchen. As it turned out John had not tried his hand at cooking, but was warming up left over Chinese food in the microwave. They settled around the table pushing the various cartons and containers around to each other and talked. Sam yawned again and John paused eating.

"Are you okay, Sammy?"

"I don't know; I feel a little out of it. I shouldn't really, we took a long time getting back and nothing much happened."

Sam looked down at the box in his hand. Turning it over, he carefully read through the directions. With a frown he slid the white plastic stick out of the box and lifted the toilet seat. Sitting on the vanity beside the double sinks Sam waited the required three minutes. He was almost sure that the thing was defective and nothing was going to happen when the first faint glimmers of color began to appear in the little plastic window.

At first Sam couldn't get his mind to wrap around the information on the test stick. But it was hard to deny; in the tiny window was a pink plus sign. He checked the directions on the back of the box yet again and then looked back down at the stick in his hand. It felt completely surreal. He was pregnant. He, Sam Winchester, was carrying a child. Suddenly his knees felt weak and he had to lean down blowing out his breath in huge gasps. He wondered if this was how his Dad had felt.

Dean was lounging against the wall in the hallway, hands jammed into his pockets when Sam opened the door. He took one look at his brother's washed out face, and grabbed him by the arm. Carefully, Dean pulled Sam into the living room and shoved him down onto the sofa. John looked up from the book he was reading, as his older son pulled the younger one into the room. With a frown the elder Winchester rose.

"Sammy, are you okay?"

"I don't know, Dad. I…I'm pregnant."

A smile broke John's face and he dropped onto the sofa patting Sam on the back. Dean grinned down at them both. Sam looked between his father and his brother then frowned. They both looked so happy and relieved, why did he feel so horrible?

He turned to John.

"Dad, how do you deal with it? How do you and Bobby feel about you being pregnant?"

John sighed; leave it to his youngest to over-think this thing.

"You just deal with it. I felt odd at first. It's not something that I thought would ever happen. But then I thought that I'd never have sex with a man either, and that's working out okay."

"Okay?" Bobby's rough voice carried from the door, "Just okay? Now Johnny, wasn't that you begging for it harder and faster just this morning?"

"Oh shut up. I just found out that I'm going to be a grandfather…grandmother? This thing is really screwing up logistics."

Bobby grinned reaching down to give Sam a one-armed hug.

"Don't you mean we're going to be grandparents?"

Sam smiled, it was hard not to in the face of all the parental pride he felt virtually oozing out of both older men. He slid an arm around Bobby's waist.

"Thanks."

With a sigh John settled back.

"I can't believe my baby is going to have a baby. Oh god, did that really come out of my mouth? Bobby, let's go pick up the paper and see if we can find something to go kill."

The older man grinned.

"Sorry but you're sidelined for the duration, Johnny-boy."

"I'll probably die of boredom, how can you be so cruel?"

"Tell you what, let's load up that Uzi I picked up and take her down to the woods near the lake and shoot some trees to pieces. Will that work for you?"

"Think the cops will come after us?" John asked as he headed for the door.

Bobby slapped him on the ass.

"I can damn well guarantee it."

"We'll take my truck. It's faster," John said sagely, "Do you think there are any deer down there?"

"John, you can't hunt deer with an Uzi," Bobby said in a horrified voice.

"Have you ever tried?"

Dean slid down into the sofa beside Sam. Closing his eyes he let the faint voices of the older men wash over him bickering all the way to the truck. He only opened his eyes to catch the clouds of dust that his father's pick-up truck kicked up into the air. The engine sounds faded and Dean sighed deeply.

"So, you don't look to happy about this."

"It's not that, Dean. I feel pretty ambivalent about it though. I thought this was supposed to be momentous, something huge…and its not. It's just one more thing that I have to do because somebody told me to. First it was Dad, and then it was you and now it's the damn government. I want to be happy."

"Then be happy, Sam. I am…happy about it. I like kids, I think."

"Oh great, the blind leading the blind…" Sam said rolling his eyes.

Grinning Dean slid his hand over Sam's belly and into his crotch. He squeezed and Sam hissed.

"I guess we'll just have to feel our way," Dean growled.

Sam's breath caught in his throat.

"Dean, we're on the sofa in the living room. What if Dad and Bobby come in."

"They went down to the woods to hunt deer, with an Uzi," Dean said snidely.

Sam gaped at him.

"Bobby won't really let Dad kill a deer, huh? They don't even have a hunting license"

"Oh yeah, because we both know what a law abiding guy Dad is."

Sam snickered.

"Still, do you know what an Uzi would do to a deer carcass? We'd be picking shells out of the meat with out teeth."

"They're not going to kill anything. Dad'll blow off some steam, and then Bobby'll blow Dad. Then they'll screw for an hour or so and come back happy."

Dean slid his hand up Sam's thigh gently grasping his dick through his jeans.

"Speaking of screwing…"

"In my delicate condition?"

"It hasn't stopped Dad, and he's a lot pregnanter…more pregnant than you."

"Yeah, but Dad has such a gentle and considerate lover…" Sam said sarcastically.

Dean coughed.

"Bullshit, I'm guessing that you slept through the whole Yippee Chi Yi Yay Ride 'em cowboy thing that they were doing the night before we left for Colorado."

"Mercifully, yes," Sam said covering his face with his hand.

Dean tugged him off the sofa and pulled him down the hall to the bedroom. They had barely gotten through the door before Sam had the older man slammed against the wall. Dean grunted as the air was forced out of his lungs. He swung Sam around and pushed him toward the bed. The mattress caught the younger man by the knees and he sprawled over the surface of the blankets, grinning.

Dean stripped with quick economical movements and dropped onto the bed beside his brother. Sam tugged his shirt over his head dropping it on the floor then slid out of his jeans. Chuckling Dean dived onto him, pushing Sam down. He pulled Sam's wrists up over his head pressing them down.

"Do I need to tie you up or can you behave and not move."

"I'm feeling kind of rebellious today; maybe you'd better tie them."

"Today?" Dean asked with a grin. "Just today?"

Sam moaned as Dean slid his tongue down the younger man's chest, stopping only for a few seconds to lick his belly button. With a grin he nipped the hard ridge of muscle on Sam's abdomen then lapped at his thigh. Sam spread his legs, slipping his hands down to guide Dean's head. With a gasp Sam fell back on the pillow and let Dean's mouth send him over the edge. Dean grunted reaching down to pull the belt out of his jeans; carefully he wrapped the belt around Sam's left wrist making sure it wasn't too tight. Then he threaded the belt through the headboard and wrapped the end around his brother's other wrist. It was tight enough to keep Sam's arms above his head, but loose enough to tug free if they needed to move quickly.

"We should have done this in Bobby's and Dad's room."

Sam groaned, "Yeah, we wouldn't have even had to bring our own restraints. I think that Bobby arc welded handcuffs to the headboard in there."

"See it pays to have a mechanically minded…er…stepfather?" Dean said snickering.

"My arms are going to sleep either fuck me or let me go."

Dean lifted Sam's legs off the bed, and tucked his right knee behind Dean's back. With a feral leer he slid forward and thrust in. Sam groaned again. Dean pulled out and slammed in so hard the head board rattled.

"Oh yeah, like that!" Sam all put shouted.

Dean started snickering again.

Sam glared.

"Pay attention to what you're doing."

The trees parted at the bend in the road and Bobby pulled the truck over onto the soft shoulder. He rolled it just a few feet forward to make sure the sand wasn't so deep that the truck would sink and they would have to push it out later.

John hopped out; pulling a duffle bag over his shoulder. Bobby walked around the bed of the truck and picked up a large black gun case. Flipping it open he pulled the gleaming black metal Uzi out. John whistled appreciatively.

"That's a damn beautiful thing, you know, Bobby."

"I thought you like her, John. Feel the weight."

He offered the weapon to the other man; John hefted it then lined the gun up tucking it into the crook of his elbow. He checked the clip and smiled. The gun metal was cold against the bare skin of his arm, and he spread his legs slightly bracing against the recoil.

When the first pine sapling dissolved in a cloud of woodchips and foliage the look on John's face was something akin to bliss. It would have almost frightened Bobby, if it hadn't turned him on so much. John Winchester and a honkin' big gun was a sight to behold.

The glow on John's face deepened, the red stripes painting his cheeks like the glow of a fever. His eyes bright John carefully put the gun down on the ground. He turned on the older man with a mad glint in his eye. Bobby swallowed hard. John took two steps forward until he collided with the other man; Bobby's hand came up automatically clutching at John's waist. He could feel the slight swell of John's belly, the first sign of the burgeoning life inside him.

Bobby's hand dropped to John's belt, undoing the buckle then sliding his jeans down. He grinned when he found bare skin.

"Going commando, Johnny-boy?"

"Uzi and all, it seemed appropriate. Makes things easier anyway."

"Yeah, sure does."

Bobby slid down John's body, pushing his jeans down to the ankle. He couldn't get them over the other man's boots which meant what he had intended was out, so he lapped at John's growing erection with his tongue. John hissed as the older man drew in him inside. He was panting by the time Bobby swallowed him down. John came with a low moan, eyes fastened on his lover's throat as he swallowed.

Quickly Bobby unfastened his trousers letting them drop to the knee. He wasn't as daring as John and slid out of his underwear. John hobbled around as much as he could with his jeans still around his ankles and leaned his shoulder against the trunk of the huge old pine.

"Bobby, I we never done it, but …uhmm…"

"I'll get the gun oil out of the bag."

Leaning back Bobby dragged the duffle over and bent down retrieving a small glass bottle. Quickly he dripped some of the yellow colored oil over his fingers.

"Relax, John."

"As hard as you made me come I'm plenty relaxed. Hurry up."

"Don't be so damned pushy."

Bobby pulled his fingers out and wiped the oil over his aching cock. He lined up and grabbed the younger man's shoulder with the other hand.

"Take a deep breath."

"Don't flatter yourself, old man. Oh holy crap…yeah that's it." John jerked upright then bounced off the tree. "Ouch."

"Sorry, baby."

"Yeah, yeah, less talking more action."

Bobby pulled out then thrust back inside in one long stroke. John hissed then grinned back at the other man over his shoulder.

"Now that's what I'm talking about."

"If you can still talk I ain't doing this right."

John braced himself against the tree trunk with both hands and Bobby settled into a slow easy rhythm that was driving the younger man insane. Finally, when John thought he was going to have to take matters into his own hands Bobby dropped one hand off John's hip and clasped his renewed erection. John grunted forcing himself backwards.

"Hell yes," he sighed as he shot a large wad of come against the trunk. He could feel Bobby coming inside him and stilled while the older man rode out his orgasm.

Panting, Bobby pulled out slapping John's ass smartly.

"Still want to look for that deer?"

"Are you kidding my knees are about to give out. Let's pack this son of a bitch up and head down to O'Malley. We'll shoot some eight ball and you can have a beer. I guess I'm stuck with soda pop."

"Aww, you can have half a beer."

"What'll we do with the other half?" John said leaning in to kiss the other man lips. Bobby grinned at him.

"It won't go to waste.

They slid the gun case into the concealed compartment in the back of John's truck. As they were loading the duffle John paused. He heard the sound of snapping brush. Quickly he hopped into the cab.

"Come on Bobby, the cops finally made it."

Bobby looked over to where John was pointing and climbed behind the wheel. The truck spun tires on the soft sand then jumped a little as it gained traction. They took the turn a little too fast, just for the hell of it, despite the fact there were no red lights flashing behind them and headed out to the bar.

Three figures emerged from the shadowy underbrush just a few yards from where John and Bobby had been. The smallest of the three was distinctly female, dressed in skin tight black leather. She motioned the two large men beside her and they trotted easily to the pine sapling that John has macerated with the Uzi. Sniffing she brushed past the stub of the tree toward the larger pine casting a long shadow on the ground.

The two men flanked her. One of the men bent down sniffing the tree. With a grin he caught sight of the trickle of body fluid John had left on the trunk. Kate wiped a finger through the half congealed mass holding it up to her nose.

"I know this one, he seems familiar but his scent is off."

She turned offering the hand to one of her companions. He leaned in, pale sunlight barely reaching his form. With a grin he clasped Kate's wrist.

"He's pregnant," the male vampire said. "It's all over him."

"Well, that makes this thing all the easier. This one is related to the two that took the Colt. Meg wants it. If we take the breeder they'll all come running."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

The Plague Pt 9

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

As Sam rolled over stretching, he grinned. Dean was still asleep beside him, a faint sheet of perspiration gleaming on his bare shoulders. The sky above the horizon was just touched with a pale glow of sunlight, and the house was quiet. There was no noise from the outer rooms, no sign that anyone else was awake as he slid out of bed searching the floor for his underwear and t-shirt.

The coffee maker was filled and ready to go when Sam walked into the kitchen. A bag of coffee sat beside it, decaf, and how his Dad had bitched about that. But Bobby was tough when it came to this baby; Sam supposed it was because Bobby's wife had died so young without the hope of ever having a child. Now, in his late fifties, he was going to be a new father.

With a sigh Sam measured the coffee out in to the brewing cup and flicked the coffee maker on. He settled at the table, glancing at the black gun case propped against the kitchen wall where Bobby had left it yesterday after he and John had finally strolled in at midnight. Fortunately there was no bloody desecrated deer corpse tied down on the hood of his father's truck, Sam had checked just to be sure.

When the coffee had finished brewing he filled a mug, and settled back in the chair watching as the sky lightened outside the window. He was feeling more secure about the baby, and idly touched the flat planes of his belly. He wondered where it was. John had already telephoned his doctor and set up an appointment for Sam. He took a sip of coffee and frowned at the bitter flavor, it hadn't tasted like that before. John had been so ill with morning sickness that Sam was not looking forward to the next few weeks, although he had to admit that he was not feeling sick to his stomach at all.

He had counted back and decided that he must be about four weeks along. So that would mean he was due about two months after his father, considering that John was due in early November it looked as if Sam was expecting a Christmas baby.

Dean was not exactly ecstatic about the baby, but he seemed genuinely pleased. That made Sam feel a bit better. He still had some serious doubts about all this. He knew that his father and Bobby weren't thinking beyond the immediate; Sam knew his father well enough to know that John wasn't going to give up his quest to kill the demon that had killed their mother. Bobby thought he had John under control. Sam didn't want to be around when he found out otherwise. Still if they could get the demon maybe, just maybe, John would let it all go. As he sipped the coffee Sam came to a decision; they would have to kill that demon before things all fell apart here.

Sam sat the mug on the table and quickly hustled to the bedroom he shared with his older brother. He bent down shuffling through his duffle bag and found a tiny, vinyl bound photo album that his Dad had given him years ago. The book was frayed around the edges, almost falling apart but Sam would never give it up. He flipped through the pages.

There had been precious little left of their life from before the fire. John had been able to salvage a few old photos and documents. He had split them into three of the tiny cheap albums he had bought, god knows where, so many years ago. Sam and Dean had collected a few more photos of the three of them as they traveled from place to place. Dean had carried an ancient 35 mm camera that had belonged to their mother for years. He managed to document a few momentous occasions, and John had helped out photographing birthdays, graduations and school events where he could. Still, Sam thought it was sad that his entire life could be condensed down into these few pages.

With a grim frown Sam flipped through the pages of the photo album until he found the one he was looking for, a photo of a young woman no older than Dean carrying a blanket wrapped bundle he knew was himself. Standing beside her was a younger, smiling John with a little blond boy slung over one hip. Sam wasn't sure who had taken he picture but he thought he recognized the handwriting when he turned it over. The simple notation October 28, 1983 adorned the back of the photo. Just a few days then, before this all began.

Sliding the picture out of its plastic sleeve Sam laid it gently on the table. He took a deep breath then dropped his fingertips stroking lightly over the shiny surface of the photo. His eyes slipped closed. Suddenly something tickled at the back of Sam's mind, a feeling like the fuzziness just after awakening from a dream only to realize that you had been asleep and dreaming. When Sam had tried this before he had always backed down when that sensation enveloped him, but now Sam slid into the dreamy, hazy reality between sleep and wakefulness.

Images flickered and Sam stiffened as the smell of smoke wrapped itself around him. Fire! Then he almost fled but the house was not burning and Sam persisted. The smoke drifted away, leaving only the image of his mother standing in a house that was no longer his home, radiant, in a gauzy white nightgown.

She had smiled at him and apologized. Sam wasn't sure what for. Leaving him? Dying? Or maybe something that none of them knew about? Something more sinister. He touched the image of his mother, more of an icon than someone he remembered.

The haziness deepened, and Sam, found himself standing in a dark, dingy looking cabin. He was pinned helpless against the wall while his father stalked across the room toward Dean, held fast against the opposite wall. Sam felt almost sick with fear, hand clutching at his belly, resting on the noticeable swelling.

_He was terrified, for himself, for the child he carried, for Dean and for his father, who was obviously very pregnant, yet managed to exude menace with every footstep. Dean was taunting the thing possessing his father's body and the creature turned smiling._

"_You think a thing like that works on something like me?" _

_He glided across the floor stepping close to his brother, invading his personal space._

"_Does Sammy there know he was second choice? Does he know how much you wanted to stick it in your father, that even now you wish this __**thing**__ in his belly was yours not the old man's?"_

_Dean sneered, pulling back as much as he could, pinned against the wall. _

"_Sammy, don't you listen to him. Demons lie; you can't believe them…"_

_But even Sam could hear the unspoken; sometimes they tell the truth, underlying Dean's words. The older man looked at his younger brother, looked at the curve of Sam's hand on the swelling belly, protecting the baby inside him. _

"_Don't believe him Sammy. I'd never make you second best."_

_The demon cocked its head smiling, and John eased forward yet again. _

"_Of course not, you'd never hurt poor Sammy. Does he know that Johnny here shoved him off on you because, frankly, he wasn't sure any of your friends would take him? And that you took the bullet like the good little soldier you are. Don't you think Sammy knows that you'd do __**anything **__to please daddy…"_

_Dean grunted in pain as the demon licked its lips, smiling it narrowed its eyes, and Dean groaned. _

"_Dad, don't you let him kill me…"_

_Sam thrashed against the invisible bonds holding him. _

"_Dad, stop it."_

Jerking upright Sam dropped the photograph on the table. He heard a sound behind him and pushed the chair back violently almost tipping it over in his haste to stand. Bobby was staring at Sam like he was a mad man. Heaving a sigh Sam pulled the chair out of the older man's path and shoved it under the table again.

"Something wrong, Sammy?"

"I don't know Bobby. It was a vision, I think. I'm a little hazy on the terminology but I think I saw the future, maybe a possible future. Dad was possessed and he was killing Dean."

Bobby shuffled past then picked up a cup and poured himself some coffee. With a frown he leaned back against the counter turning toward the younger man.

"When did this happen? Could you make out the circumstances?"

"Sort of, I'm sorry they're not really clear sometimes. I don't know if they're things that are going to happen or things that might happen. I know its a few months from now, because Dad is about seven months pregnant."

Nodding Bobby settled down at the table. He sipped at the mug of coffee then wiped at his eyes with one hand.

"Shit, that's a lot to process at six am; couldn't you have had this vision a little later in the day?"

He grinned at the younger man and Sam responded in kind. Somehow Bobby had always been able to make it better, even when Sam had been younger and had had one of his screaming, knock-down, drag-out fights with his father. If they were at Bobby's the older man could ease Sam's bruised ego, and calm John's temper. Sam realized that even then his father must have loved Bobby. John would have never taken that much interference in his affairs from anyone else. It had taken a hell of a lot to drive them apart for the few years that John and Bobby hadn't spoken. Sam reconsidered; actually it hadn't take much, only John's fear and Bobby's unwillingness to push the issue. He made up his mind that he wasn't going to let that happen between him and Dean.

Sighing Sam took a deep breath.

"Bobby, you've got to keep Dad from going on a hunting trip alone. Somewhere, somehow the demon gets inside him, and he almost kills Dean. I think that if we don't keep that from happening then Dad is going to die."

Bobby looked stricken.

"If he dies Sammy, he'll take the baby with him."

"I know, but when it comes to this demon when it comes to saving Dean…I know he'd sacrifice himself, but I'm not sure that he'd willingly kill the baby he's carrying. Either way we all lose because if Dad chose to save himself for the baby and let Dean die, that would kill him, too."

"I know. So whatever we do we have to make sure that John is never in a position where he can be possessed or at least we're forewarned. If he takes off on his own we'll just do an exorcism on him whenever we find him, before I turn him over my knee and paddle his ass that is."

"Promises, promises…" John's voice carried in from the hallway. "You've been saying you were going to paddle my ass for days now, and I still got nothing."

Sam's eyes widened.

"Dad?"

John offered him a grin then winked at Bobby.

"Hell Sammy, don't you and Dean… _play games? _You should see the whips and chains in the old man's room."

"Oh god, Dad...please there are just some things about your private life that I don't want to know about."

After breakfast John and Bobby disappeared into the garage. Other than one small explosion which Sam and Dean refused to go check out they were noticeably quiet. Still Dean kept glancing at the open door to the other building. Sam looked up from the newspaper.

"Dean if either one of them was injured the other one would have been in here for the first aid kit or the phone to the ER by now."

"What if both of them are hurt?"

"It wasn't that big of an explosion. Nothing's on fire, and I don't see any body parts lying around the yard," Sam said, "What if they're…you know."

"Granted Bobby is good at keeping Dad happy, but I don't think he's good enough to cause Dad to explode."

Sam whacked his brother on the back of the head.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I meant what if the explosion was sort of a warm-up…"

"You think Dad and Bobby blow things up as foreplay?" Dean asked incredulously then he relented. "Well, this is Dad and Bobby we're talking about. We'll give them another thirty minutes then go out."

They were saved from worrying when both older men walked out of the garage a few minutes later. The front of Bobby's shirt was covered in soot, and John kept snickering behind his back. Bobby refused to turn around.

Their father's voice carried through the open window and Dean cocked his head. John caught up to the older man grinning.

"I told you to check the battery terminals. I think that's one Mustang we're gonna have to put out of its misery."

The phone rang as John and Bobby trooped in the kitchen. Bobby listened numbly as they walked into the living room, and John dropped down onto the sofa beside Sam. Bobby dropped the phone on the table and settled into a chair with a visible shudder. John was off the sofa in a minute, kneeling beside the older man. With a grimace Bobby looked over at him then turned away visibly shaken.

Dean rose from his seat and followed his Dad across to where they sat, Bobby in the chair John squatting beside it. John grunted and Dean gently hauled him upright.

"Bobby, what's wrong?" John asked, "Who was on the phone."

"Ellen Harvelle. She's calling as many hunters as she can."

"Why," Dean asked. Bobby just shook his head. Finally, John settled on the arm of the chair stroking Bobby's shoulder.

Bobby finally surrendered.

"Marti Chavez is dead."

The look on his father's face was enough to send Dean staggering back a step. He remembered the name vaguely from his childhood. Martha Chavez was one of the few remaining old time hunters still alive and she and Daniel Elkins were the only ones Dean actually remembered his Dad talking about. Dean had some hazy recollections of his father coming back to Missouri Mosley's house from Arizona or New Mexico bearing tales of a Marti Chavez. From the way the younger John Winchester had spoken you would have thought he had gone to visit the Pope.

John leaned heavily against Bobby who patted his hand.

"She trained me Bobby, when this all first started; she took me on my first hunt. Helped me get ready for my first solo hunt a few years later."

Sam was a little surprised to hear that Marti had been a woman, he remembered hearing John recount some small piece of gossip to Pastor Jim or someone else and Marti had always seemed larger than life, almost a legend. Whoever she had been John was hurting and it plainly showed.

"Yep, she was a first class hunter. She trained a lot of us. I remember when she came through here; it was Marti that got me clear on demons and exorcism. Anyway Ellen's having some kind of memorial at the Roadhouse. She want's us to come."

"I'm not sure that Ellen wants me there," John said slowly.

Bobby looked up at him and smiled gently.

"I'm not going without you. Ellen'll be fine, it's for Marti. John you've got to be there. All of us from that generation that's still around are going to be there, now with Dan Elkins gone there ain't a hell of a whole lot of us left."

Sam leaned against the wall staring at the two older men.

"So this Marti Chavez was special…"

"Yeah, she was an old time hunter, one of the first when the network got started. To look at her you wouldn't think she could fight or kill anything. She was five one and about a hundred pounds soaking wet," John said.

"But she laid your daddy out colder than a block of ice the first time he ran into her, and not so politely told her what he thought of her."

Dean smiled.

"You're kidding."

"Nope, Bobby had to stitch my head up. I think I heard bells ringing for days. She was a tough old broad even then, and that was twenty-something years ago."

Bobby shook his head.

"Oh yeah, Marti was seven foot of mean in five foot of woman that's for sure."

"What killed her?" John asked.

Bobby shrugged.

"Ellen wasn't sure; at least she didn't seem to be. Anyway I told her you were coming with me, and she said okay."

Later that night Sam and Dean lay in bed, Dean turned, glancing out the window. He could just make out the pale moonlight glinting on the large course grains of rock salt adorning the window sills. He sighed tucking an arm around Sam and pulling him closer. Sam sighed. He raised himself up on one elbow then bent over his lips seeking the older man's in the dim light. Dean's breath caressed his cheek then Sam found the source of that heated whisper of air.

Leaning in to deepen the kiss Sam slid his leg over the cool, crisp sheets and straddled Dean's hips. He settled gently, rocking their bodies together. Dean uttered a low moan. Sam raked his nails down the smooth expanse of skin beneath him and felt his brother shudder.

"Oh god, Sammy, don't keep me waiting. I need you."

"Wait just a little longer."

Sam slid his hand between then and stroked his fingers over his heated flesh, his cock quivered and then Sam grasped both his dick and Dean's wrapping his large warm palm around them both and tugged. Dean groaned again.

"God, please Sammy I want to be inside you."

Pushing himself to his knees Sam grasped Dean's dick at the base and held it out until he could gently lower himself onto his brother. His head jerked back and Sam's breath hissed out in one long sibilant whispered.

"Ahhhh…that's so good."

Dean dropped his hands to Sammy's thighs, feeling the tug and glide of the skin over his well formed muscles as the younger man raised and lowered himself. Grunting Sam set a quick pace almost as if he wanted Dean to loose control. Dean slapped Sam's buttock. And the younger man winced but refused to stop.

"Slow down," Dean said with a mock growl.

Sam grinned.

"Make me."

Dean grinned wrapping his hands around Sam's waist and shoving the younger man to the side. Sam was forced to roll or risk giving his brother a severe injury. Suddenly the younger man found himself flat on his back legs in the air, as Dean thrust into him.

"Oh yeah, Dean come on harder…make me feel it."

Glancing at the door the older man cringed.

"Sammy, Dad and Bobby will hear you."

A sudden moan from the other bedroom echoed in the hall. Sam grinned.

"I don't think they're listening."

Dean grunted, thrusting into Sam in a quick steady rhythm, the younger man groaned, wrapping his hands around Dean's broad shoulders. After a few more thrusts Dean slid one hand between them working Sam's dick. The younger man moaned and spilled his seed over this brother hand. Dean jerked as he filled Sam with his seed.

John knelt on the bed, naked skin gleaming in the soft yellow lamplight. He was oiled from neck to foot, shivering in the cool air of the bedroom. Bobby tugged John's hand to the cuff welded to the upright post of the wrought iron headboard, the other hand already secured. With a grin he leaned over and trailed his tongue over the younger man's jugular vein. John shivered again, and this time the coolness of the air had nothing to do with it.

After making sure that John's hands were secured the older man picked up a three foot long strip of black leather. It was thin enough to sting if wielded with the correct force, not heavy enough to cause permanent damage. Bobby had been reluctant to play these kinds of games with John since he had gotten pregnant, but tonight he could tell John was wound up, and needed the kind of release that only this brought him.

"Bobby…" John objected with the other man lifted a black blindfold to his eyes.

"You weren't give permission to speak so keep your mouth shut."

John started to object again, and the leather strap snapped out catching him on the ass. The skin pinked nicely and John jerked forward.

"I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be."

Bobby's voice was a smooth as molten metal and it flowed over John taking him to another dimension. The strap snaked out again, and this time the mark it left was darker, redder. John jerked again, his cock painting a pearly streak of fluid on the wrought iron of the headboard.

Bobby worked John's body with the strap, varying the speed and depth of the strikes leaving John off balanced, totally raw and open. When he heard the first broken sob, Bobby dropped the leather and slid close; he grabbed his own dick, and pressed into John's already lubricated hole. John jerked again as the older man slid inside him. And then Bobby's hands found the blindfold stripping it away. Tears were streaming down John's face, splattering his sweat soaked skin, and Bobby thrust into him hard enough to make the bed rattle on its frame.

"Oh god yes…" John cried.

"Are you okay baby?" Bobby asked, but John shook his head. Sliding his fingers through John's hair, Bobby pulled his head back with a slightly vicious twist baring his throat and dropped his mouth to the tender flesh, biting down until he raised a red mark. John jerked his hands against the cuffs, slapping the metal headboard against the wall, and cried out.

Bobby thrust into John hard enough to lift him off his knees and John cried out again. The older man could feel John's body shaking with every spurt of his release. When Bobby came it was like he was fourteen again, hard and hot and everything he had ever dreamed of.

Snuggled in the bed together later Bobby lay with his head on John's chest listening to the steady beating of the younger man's heart. His hand slid down John's chest almost of its own volition until he cupped the peak of the slight swell of John's abdomen.

They ate breakfast quickly the next morning going over a few articles in the paper. Both boys noticed the large hickey on their Dad's throat and the fact that he winced when he sat down, but neither of them were brave enough to say anything about it. They decided to take two vehicles since neither Dean nor Bobby could stomach the thought of Sam and John riding together in a small enclosed space for almost two days.

They gassed the cars up at the Chevron station on Highway 395, East to Topeka. Bobby and John were driving in John's truck, while Sam and Dean took the Impala. John followed Dean up the ramp as they headed toward the junction to Topeka and then onwards to Lincoln.

It was early Friday morning, just before rush hour, the highway stretched out empty before them. Dean cranked the volume up on the tape deck and popped in a little Zeppelin, Sam just rolled his eyes. He glanced out of the passenger side mirror catching sight of Bobby's smiling face behind them. His Dad was at the wheel.

John's truck pulled into the center lane and slid into place beside them. Dean glanced at Bobby through the open window and raised a hand off the wheel. Bobby grinned and saluted.

"Dad's kidding himself if he thinks that pick-up will take this car," he said under his breath.

Sam barely caught it.

"They've been working on the engine, tuning it up. It sounds good," Sam said, shrugging.

Dean just tossed him a glance over his shoulder.

"Sammy, opera sounds good but that don't make it music."

Grinning Dean lifted an eyebrow.

"I've been doing a little work on this bad boy myself."

"Oh yeah," Sam snickered as the truck surged past and Bobby hung out the window flipping them off. With a grin he turned to his brother.

"Smoke 'em."

That was all the incentive Dean needed. He slammed his foot to the floor and opened the Impala's big V8 engine up. The whine of the engine became almost deafening and the car jumped a little then zoomed past the truck and slewed across the lanes, cutting the pick-up off. He flashed his brake lights once and sped onward. Sam's cell phone rang and he fished it out of his jeans. Grinning he looked back nodding through the rear window although he doubted that either of the older men in the truck could see him.

Bobby's voice came through the static.

"You boys been working on that thing on the sly, haven't you?"

"Dean, work on the car, are you kidding?" Sam smiled at his older brother.

They could hear Bobby's snort of laughter.

"We'll meet you guys in Lincoln at Sweet Baby Ray's for lunch."

"Sweet Baby Ray's it is. Catch you in a couple of hours."

Dean grinned, reaching over he snatched the phone out of Sam's hand.

"We'll see you in a couple of hours, you'll never catch us."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

The Plague Pt 10

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Many thanks to Sioux-Sioux for the wonderful beta on the story.

They pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse at half-past four in the afternoon. John parked the truck beside Dean's car, but he didn't get out right away. Bobby slid out of the cab and followed the boys into the dim interior of the bar.

Dean looked at the few patrons already sitting at the tables scattered throughout the room's interior. At the bar was a middle-aged woman. She was tall and slender with shoulder length dark blond hair. He thought she must be Ellen Harvelle, the bar's owner. Bobby confirmed that when he strode forward and grasped her in a bear hug. She smiled at him then looked at the two younger men. She scrutinized them like they were some kind of museum display then a smile softened her features.

"So these must be John's boys. Hell, it's been a while hasn't it?" She addressed the statement to Bobby. Waving a hand Ellen motioned them over, "Well, come on over here so I can get a look at you."

Dean cast a sideways glance at her and the older man then shrugged. Sam followed him, looking down at her from his greater height. She smiled at them again.

"Yep, you favor John all right. Where is he?"

Suddenly John's voice carried from the door.

"Hello, Ellen."

Something dark and ugly flashed in her eyes, but Ellen managed to close it down so quickly that Sam wasn't sure what he had seen. John hesitated at the door but finally walked over to the bar. He didn't offer to hug her or even shake her hand. Ellen pulled back just to make sure that he didn't. Wrapping her arms around her chest she nodded.

"I'm sorry as hell about Marti, John. I know what she was to you."

John looked as if he was going to say something then he paused glancing around the room. Finally he sighed.

"Yeah, thanks."

Ellen nodded.

"You boys want a beer?"

Dean grinned and nodded, but Sam just shook his head. Bobby pulled a barstool up for John and he dropped onto it. Bobby eased his stool forward so that John could lean against his shoulder. Ellen cocked her head.

"Bobby, beer or something stronger?"

Bobby took a deep breath.

"A little early for it, but under the circumstances, and since John's driving a Jack and coke if you please."

"John?" Ellen said reaching for a glass under the bar.

John picked at a napkin.

"Just iced tea if you've got it."

She gave him a funny look.

"You on the wagon? I never thought I'd see John Winchester turn down free booze."

"I'm not that bad, Ellen. Besides I can't drink, Bobby would kill me. I'm pregnant."

The glass shattered at her feet and Ellen jumped back to avoid the spray of liquid.

"Shit," she hissed.

Quickly she got a broom from behind the bar and raked up the mess.

"I'm sorry. John did you just say you're pregnant?"

"Yeah, about three months. Sammy is pregnant, too."

Frowning, Ellen shoved the dustpan into the trashcan with more force than was necessary, the glass spilling over the side. The four men at the bar watched as her chest hitched, and then she looked away. Suddenly it occurred to John that Bill and Ellen's daughter wasn't in the room. He huffed out a breath uncertain of what to say when Bobby looked over at him.

"We're real sorry about Jo, Ellen. You know that don't you. It's just that you never said anything, not until it was too late."

"There wasn't nothing to say, Bobby. She didn't die on a hunt, no monster killed her. At least not directly she just got sick."

"Still it must have been rough with her being your only child and all."

Ellen whirled staring at John.

"Yeah, Bill and I always wanted more but we all know how that ended."

John flinched, and Bobby glared at the woman behind the bar. Ellen raised a hand.

"Don't say it Bobby. I promised that I would be civil and I will. But that doesn't change what we all know."

Dean bristled and Ellen turned on him, smiling.

"Don't get so puffed up. I'm not after your daddy. That water went under the bridge a long damn time ago."

"So when is the service for Marti?" John asked.

Ellen poured Bobby another drink and got John his tea. She set the glass down in front of him then leaned forward on her elbow.

"We've still got some people coming in, those who aren't on a hunt right now. I plan to do it on Sunday, in the morning. You know Marti was a real stickler about going to Sunday service. Jim Murphy is gonna be here to lead the prayers and all. He knew Marti and he knows most of hunters coming in. He's flying down so I'm gonna pick him up at the airport in Lincoln tomorrow afternoon."

Sam sat up suddenly his face pale. Dean eased into the seat beside him, but didn't try to touch the younger man. With a grim expression Sam bolted toward the restrooms in the hall across the room. He barely made it to the toilet before he retched and vomited up the soda he'd been drinking along with the remains of his lunch.

The small group gathered at the bar watched him go with varying degrees of concern. Dean hurried across the room and shoved the door open. John was close behind him. The elder Winchester leaned against the doorjamb watching as his older son squatted beside the younger.

"Sammy, are you okay now?"

Sam shook his head then whined plaintively,

"Daddy…"

John pushed past Dean and dropped an arm around Sam's shoulders.

"Come on, I have some of my meds in the truck. I'll get you something to straighten you out."

Dean looked offended then hurt as Sam and their father brushed past him. Bobby came up behind him and put his hand on the younger man's arm. Dean shook him off but Bobby blocked the door.

"Dean, let them have this. It's good for Sam and John to work this out together."

"But when we were growing up, if Dad wasn't there it was my job to take care of Sam. He depended on me."

"Well, they've got a common bond now. Like I said let them have this, it's good for them both. You know, being pregnant at the same time gives them more in common than they've probably ever had. Let John be the daddy he couldn't always be for Sammy when he was little."

Dean frowned.

"But I want to be the one…"

"Look maybe its age or experience but I know that you'll always be the one for Sammy. Like I am for John, but don't interfere in this, it's special, just for them."

With a smile Bobby patted Dean on the back, Dean smiled back at him.

"You know for an old hillbilly you're pretty damn smart."

"Well, once in a while I get lucky."

They walked over to the bar together and Ellen looked up, something odd in her expression. For a second Bobby started to call her on it, but concern for Sam overrode it and he sighed.

"I think John and Sam need to rest for bit. We're going to be at the motel down the road."

Ellen smiled.

"Uh Bobby, they rent those rooms by the hour, most of the time. I'm sure we can fix something up here. If you'd prefer."

"Nope, we'll be okay. John and I've stayed worse places and I know the boys have too. Beside I can't wait to see the look on John's face when he sees the heart shaped red velvet bed with the mirror on the ceiling."

Dean shot him a look then heaved a sigh following Bobby out the door. If the rooms really looked like that Sam was going to have a heart attack. It only took a few minutes to drive from the bar to the motel. Dean pulled the Impala into a parking spot beside his Dad's truck. The older men were already unloading their bags and John nudged the door open. When he didn't hear any shouting Dean helped Sam out of the car and picked up both duffle bags.

He had a moment's dread when he saw his brother standing in the door to the motel room with a horrified expression on his face. Dean shouldered past him and dropped the bags on the table. He turned surveying the room. It wasn't as bad as he had thought, but was certainly tasteless and tacky. Sam still hadn't come in from the doorway. Dean smiled at him toeing off his shoes and flopping down on the bed, the springs squealed and squeaked.

Finally Sam staggered in and dropped heavily into a chair.

"Well, it's a good thing that Dad gave me some of his pills because just the color scheme alone would have made me nauseous."

Dean bounded off the bed and over to the dresser. He flipped on the tv and grinned at the obvious nature of the film on the screen. He wandered to the door and flipped the light switch; the fixture in the center of the ceiling came on casting glittering, flickering lights over the room. Sam gaped open-mouthed at the twinkling monstrosity.

"For future reference we are never letting Bobby pick the hotel again."

Dean waggled his eyebrows at the younger man.

"Oh come on, this room could be a lot of fun."

"I bet it's been a lot of fun for way too many people. My heart says yes but my stomach says no way."

Sam was asleep beside him as Dean sat watching the flickering images on the television. He sighed, the room was about as tastelessly suggestive an anything he had ever seen and Sam was too sick for them to properly enjoy it. Maybe he'd feel better tomorrow, and they could make proper use of the bed. He slid the velvet blanket off fanning himself with a piece of the newspaper. It was hot in the room; air conditioning was too much to ask for.

Sam was snoring softly. Dean rolled onto one elbow staring down at the younger man. He touched Sam's shaggy bangs, brushing them back from his sweat dampened forehead. He grinned letting his eyes travel the length of his brother's body, finally coming to rest on his belly. Somewhere in there was the tiny bud of life, the baby that they had made together. Dean sighed, it all still seemed so unreal to him. Maybe when he could see the evidence of life the way he could with his father, then it would seem more concrete. In the next room he could hear the faint squeal of the bed as it was rocked gently, and grinned.

John lay on his back looking over Bobby's shoulder at their image in the mirror. He could see the broad expanse of Bobby's back glistening with sweat, and his own head and shoulders. He was mesmerized by the flex and glide of the long muscles in Bobby's back, the twist and flex of his buttocks as he thrust slowly in and out. John gasped feeling the first tiny contractions of orgasm, still he held back, watching as Bobby's thrusts gained momentum until his hips were pumping in short quick strokes. John wished that the mirror was canted so that he could actually see Bobby's cock sliding in and out of him, but that would take more acrobatic skill than either of them possessed. Tomorrow he planned on having Bobby flat on his back watching as John rode him.

Later that night, as Bobby lay asleep beside him, John thought back to all those years ago when he had been a younger man, still somewhat naive about hunting. He had been a lot like Sam in those days, desperately wanting a normal life, and fighting mad because he knew it was forever denied to him.

Marti had been more than hunter; she had been something like the mother John had never had. And like a good mother she knew when to push him and when to coddle, and John had taken the coddling, as much as would have ever denied it. He knew that he would have never survived those first few years without Martha Chavez and her no nonsense approach to training a new hunter.

Rolling onto his side John let his eyes close, but he was too wound up to sleep. The wind had picked up and the window screen rattled in the cheap aluminum frame. The hissing, rattling noise almost covered the sound of nails clicking against the wall. John sat up frowning.

Reaching into the floor he picked up his sweatpants and pulled them on over his boxers. Carefully he walked to his duffle bag and pulled out the sawed-off shot gun he had in a pouch on the side of the bag. Loading it with rock-salt shells John tucked his Glock into the waistband of his pants and went to the door.

The wind was stirring up dust on the faded asphalt of the parking lot. He couldn't see anything on the cement walkway beside the door. John quietly unlocked the door casting a glance over his shoulder at the other man asleep in the bed. Bobby's shoulders jerked but he didn't move. Carefully John fished the door key out of the ashtray on the dresser and slipped it into his pocket. Pulling the door closed firmly behind him he glanced down the sidewalk.

Nothing moved in the parking lot beyond the truck and the Impala parked in two side by side spots. John stepped around the back of the truck and glanced under the bed. The asphalt was marred by an old oil stain but nothing moved.

The wind whipped the braches of the few trees in decorative wooden buckets scattered up and down the length of the walk way. John thought he saw something large and black darting from the cover of the last tree to the corner of the building. Lifting the shotgun he pressed his back against the wall and slipped down the sidewalk.

He reached the cover of the first tree and glanced back the way he had come, nothing was moving, neither Bobby nor the boys had emerged from their rooms. John slid down the wall again, carefully avoiding the doorway to the next room and glanced behind the second tree. Still no movement of any kind disturbed the parking lot.

Taking a deep breath John leaned against window and glanced around the corner of the building. He could just make out the blur of movement as the dark form ducked behind the wing of the hotel. John swore and pressed his back against the glass of the window.

Inside the room, a shadow flickered across the drawn curtains, as someone walked to the window from the interior of the room. John didn't notice the flickering movements in the darkened room, but a faint scraping of fingernails on glass caught his attention. He leaned back, staring at the slight movement of the curtains being drawn back. The last thing he wanted was someone catching him in the parking lot with a gun. Frowning John stepped back from the window.

The door to the room he shared with Bobby clattered open as the wind caught it and pulled it out of Bobby's hand. He leaned around the doorjamb catching sight of John at the end of the walkway.

"Baby, what are you doing out here?"

Sighing John dropped the shot gun to his side and trotted up the walkway. Bobby glared at him and said,

"I know you weren't thinking of going out there in the woods on your own, were you?"

"I'm not helpless, Bobby," John snapped and brushed past him into the room.

Bobby followed pulling the door closed behind them. He pulled the Glock out of John's waistband then smacked him on the ass with the flat of the barrel. John jumped.

"I'm still armed you know," he said holding the shotgun aloft.

Bobby grinned at him.

"Get in bed. You need to get some sleep. I don't want you exhausted tomorrow."

The next afternoon Ellen ushered Jim Murphy into the Roadhouse. Sam rose, taking his bag and following her to the room down the corridor behind the bar. Jim looked worn around the edges and John could tell he was shaken by the news that Marti had been killed. They gathered around the pool table, Dean and Bobby shooting pool while the others watched.

Jim had cast a sideways glance at John and suddenly he felt more uncomfortable with his burgeoning pregnancy than he had with anyone else. He supposed that the swelling belly was an admission that John had had sexual intercourse with another man, an idea that hadn't really disturbed him until he was in the implacable presence of the pastor.

Jim smiled patting the other man on the shoulder then he glanced down.

"How are you doing, John?"

John relaxed visibly and smiled.

"Good Jim. I'm just sorry we had to get together this way. How's things in Minnesota?"

"Cold as hell."

Bobby chuckled always amused by their friend's sometimes decidedly unpastor-like demeanor.

"Good to see you, Preacher."

After dinner Jim and Bobby walked on the dirt path leading from the parking lot to the bar. Bobby glanced at the night sky, still awed by the display of grace and beauty that he knew was not an accident. Tilting his head back he sighed.

"I've never gotten over loving the stars. You'd think that knowing, the way we do, what's in the dark I would be afraid of the night time."

Smiling Jim glanced upward.

"I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night," he quoted.

Bobby nodded.

"The reason I asked you out here is that I want to make things right with John, you know in the eyes of the Man upstairs and all. I know it won't be legal in the eyes of man, but I'd feel better knowing my baby ain't a bastard in the eyes of God."

"So you are the baby's father. I was wondering who it might be," Jim said softly.

Bobby thought he caught a hint of something in the older man's voice. He sighed, he hadn't seen that coming.

"Hell, Jim, I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way about John."

"Don't worry about it. I know that John didn't feel that way about me. I'm glad it's you Bobby. I know John's loved you for a long time now, even if he wouldn't admit it. I'd be glad to perform a ceremony for you. I think that a little joy amidst all this sorrow will be good for our souls, and well, souls are my business."

"I haven't said anything to John about it yet. I thought I'd see how you felt on the subject first. I asked him to wear a ring for me then never said how I intended to get that ring on his finger."

"Maybe you should talk to him first. John doesn't take being blindsided very well."

Bobby replied, "Ain't that the truth. I'm going to ask him tonight."

Ellen watched Bobby and Pastor Jim walking in the parking lot. She could tell by the look on Bobby's face they were talking about John Winchester. Her fingers clenched closed to the point that her nails sank into her own palm. She slowly pried them open staring at the little half-moon cuts glimmering on her skin. Schooling her face into a bland expression she carefully placed the box of floral arrangements she was carrying on the bar then walked to Dean and John.

"Uhm, John," she said quietly.

He turned away from his son and smiled at the woman. She touched his arm.

"Can you help me get a picture frame out of the storage shed in back of the bar. It's not too heavy, I understand that you can't lift much in your condition but I can't pick it up on my own. I want to get Marti's photo in it for the service in the morning."

"Sure, Ellen, I'd be glad too. Just show me where it is."

"It's right out here in the shed, in the backyard. Let me get a flashlight."

John pushed the rear door to the kitchen open and picked his way down the path to the small wooden outbuilding. There was a single door and window in the front of the building and nothing more. He pushed the door open. The room was too dark to see inside and he turned glancing up at the bar waiting for Ellen and the flashlight. Suddenly a pair of pale skinned, slender hands emerged out of the door catching John by the throat. Whirling he threw a punch and his fist connected with a slender cheek, but the woman's head didn't snap back. She grinned and John shuddered as her eyes flashed silver in the moonlight.

Two solid forms rose up out of the darkness, male, bulky and dressed in black leather similar to the clothes that the woman wore. One of the men was dark skinned his shaven head glimmered in the soft light. The other man grasped John by the arm then grinned and John shuddered. Their silver eyes sparkled, vampires. John tried to break free but the male vampire wrapped one arm around his neck dragging him away from the door to the black sedan parked off the shoulder of the road.

Bobby looked up as Ellen came in from the kitchen. Glancing around the room he noticed that John was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, have you seen my better half?"

"What?" Ellen jumped nervously her eyes darting to the still open door to the backyard. Bobby followed her gaze. Suddenly he pushed off the barstool and stalked to the rear door.

"You better not have him hauling in boxes. He's not supposed to lift anything heavy…"

Bobby's voice faded as he surveyed the empty yard and the silent outbuilding. Somewhere from down the road the sound of a lone engine carried to his ears, and Bobby turned on the woman.

"Where's John, Ellen?"

"What am I, his keeper? I thought that was your job."

"I swear to God woman…"

Bobby grabbed her by the arm. She jerked back trying to free herself then cringed. He watched as she seemed to fold in on herself.

"The almighty John Winchester, just what made him so special. He's always been the great hunter, the number one man to go to. Everybody including Bill fell under his spell. You know what he did. Bill was my husband and you know what John did…"

"That's bullshit Ellen, John never slept with Bill."

"Bill knew. He knew about John being…what he is."

"So did I and so did Jim. We had to drag John's sorry ass in from a hunt a time or two beat to hell. We cleaned him up, washed him off and dressed his wounds. We've all done it for each other, and not a one of us laid a hand on John that way. Not even me, not until about five months ago. I'm telling you Ellen, John did not sleep with Bill."

"How can you be sure? They hunted alone sometimes."

"John wasn't like that; he wouldn't have slept with a married man. Hell, until we got together he hadn't slept with anyone since Mary died. And I know for a fact that he hadn't slept with Bill because I was the first man he ever laid down with."

Ellen's face went sickly white and she clasped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my god, what did I do?"

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

The Plague Pt 11

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) A chunk of dialogue for this chapter came right out of Devil's Trap.

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Consciousness came with a price John discovered and it was the sickly sweet taste of linen shoved in his mouth and the burn of muscles pulled taut by heavy rope. He struggled to sit up and found that he was already sitting, halfway at least, with his arms

bound behind him to a wooden spindle in the banister of a staircase.

The house he was in was new; he could still smell the paint drying on the walls. The staircase he was secured to led upstairs to a landing. John could just make out the vague outlines of some kind of table perched in a niche in the wall. Something large and feathery was hanging off the table, a floral arrangement, he supposed. Nothing useful in that.

Scanning the downstairs he noted the crisp white-beige carpets and bulky amorphous shapes of sofa and chairs tastefully arranged around a distressed brick fireplace. The carpets still smelled of some kind of cleaning fluid. It made John feel sick to his stomach and he forced the nausea down. If he vomited with the gag in his mouth he'd aspirate the material and choke to death. And John had no desire to choke on his own stomach contents. He wasn't going to die here, not at the hands of these things. He had Ellen Harvelle to deal with. God, what this must being doing to Bobby and the boys.

The house was too sterile, too quiet to actually belong to someone. The carpets hadn't seen wear lately, so John was betting that this was a model home, one the developers showed to people to get them to buy. That meant that the development was either empty or still under construction. John could clearly remember seeing a sign for a new housing tract off Highway 34 from Lincoln, just on the outskirts of Jackson not far from the Roadhouse. So they hadn't gone far.

He heard the sounds of footsteps on the stairs behind him and thought about playing possum for a little while, but the vampires would be able to hear the change in his breathing pattern and know he was awake so he just sat there waiting for them to come.

She walked up to him, actually smiling. John cocked his head, and offered her a disinterested look. Kate squatted down pulling the gag out of his mouth.

"So you're up and about, well, awake any way."

"What the hell do you want?" John asked.

She smiled at him running her fingers down his cheek, tracing the scar that crossed the bone.

"Nothing from you anyway. But your husband has something we want. Something a friend of ours desperately wants, and you and that little parasite inside you make good bargaining chips"

John sneered at her.

"Don't over-estimate my importance to Bobby; he's doing this as a favor. Me and this kid, we're just a noose around his neck."

Her laughter was a little too bright and eager and John wondered how he had misjudged. So playing the cast-off lover wasn't going to get him anywhere. Kate leaned in and smiled.

"That's not what he was telling the preacher-man when they went for their little stroll. Bobby dear has a couple of nice shiny rings in his pocket, sweetheart."

John's heart clenched, it never paid for the enemy to know more about your situation than you did. But he didn't drop his gaze. She motioned one of the male vampires over. He leaned down tugging the bonds loose and jerking John to his feet. Kate followed them.

They took John to the bathroom, and regardless of their watchful eyes he emptied his bladder with a sigh of relief. He washed his hands then splashed water over his face trying to clear his head. His stomach still hadn't settled and he realized that he had left his meds in the hotel. So when the big male vampire leaned in behind him and John caught a whiff of stale blood on his breath he leaned over the toilet and vomited.

Kate grimaced as if she hated any reminder of basic human bodily functions that she might have once been prone too so many years ago. When John was finished he rinsed his mouth and face again. The male vampire pulled him into the living room and shoved him onto the sofa. John grunted as one of the male vampires bound his hands behind his back with duct tape. He sat just because his knees were a little too shaky to hold him.

Another figure appeared at the door to the house. She was smaller than Kate and not as elaborately dressed. In fact, she looked like a simple school girl, thin and blonde, someone who could have one of Sam's college friends. Her short cut hair was plainly done framing her slender face. Only the odd cast to her eyes caught John's attention, that and the way she smiled. He could smell sulphur on her without even seeing her eyes go black.

"Hello Johnny," she said with a smile.

It was then he remembered her. The warehouse in Chicago, the shadow demons. She was the one who had done a header out of the seventh story window. Well, that was a wrap on the poor girl trapped in her own body, and that made the idea that he might have to kill her go down a little easier. Of course, with the vampires as enforcers it made getting into a position to actually kill the little bitch a lot more difficult.

"Well Meg, we brought him here."

"I'll get the old man on the phone."

Meg leaned down shuffling through John's pockets until she found his cell phone. She flicked it on running down the list of contacts until she found Bobby's number. With a dry grin she punched the button.

Bobby was sitting at the bar in the Roadhouse with Jim Murphy. Sam and Dean were seated at a table with Ellen Harvelle and he wasn't sure if the boys were keeping her company or keeping her prisoner. None of them were any too happy with the woman right now. Even Jim Murphy had gone ballistic when he found out what she had done.

When his phone rang and Bobby saw that the caller id said John he was ecstatic. Fumbling the phone the rest of the way out of his pocket he clicked it on.

"Oh god…Baby are you okay?"

"Baby can't come to the phone right now old man. He's all tied up at the moment," Meg said licking her lips. The hiss of indrawn breath made her giggle. "Isn't he …I don't know…kind of _old_ for you to be calling him baby?"

"What do you want…"

"The name's Meg," she said flicking a glance at John. "You have a gun, something that belonged to Daniel Elkins; the two boys picked it up at his cabin. I want it. I'll trade you for it. If you want Baby and the kid back, bring it to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bobby said glancing at Sam and Dean.

He took a deep breath as the boys gathered around leaning down to listen. Meg's voice carried over the line.

"I tell you what. I'll send you the little one first; all I have to do is cut it out. You want that? In bits and pieces. He might survive it, of course, he might not."

"You bitch, you lay one hand on him, and I'll track you down and kill you a bit and a piece at a time!" Bobby shouted hands shaking.

Dean grabbed the phone pushing the older man onto a barstool.

"Meg, what the hell are you doing?"

"You boys are so screwed this time," Meg hissed over the phone. She glanced at John sitting on the sofa. "You boys are never going to see your daddy again."

Dean listened as the line went dead. Bobby took the phone from the younger man's limp fingers and Dean wiped his hand over his eyes. Sam rose from the table coming to stand beside the other men.

"That was Meg, are you sure? What did she want?"

Dean cringed. "She has dad. She wants that Colt we got for Bobby from Daniel Elkins' place."

Bobby shook his head.

"She'll kill him."

"Not yet, but she'll get around to it, if we don't find her first."

Bobby glanced over at the younger man.

"Even if we get this girl, Meg. We still have to find John. Can we even be sure that she knows who has John?"

Sam frowned.

"She knows. Meg is a demon. We ran into her in Chicago and she sent some Shadow demons after Dad, used us as bait to pull him in. It's why we weren't hunting together for a long time. Then we met up again and the plague broke out. Dad was pretty sure that Meg is the key to tracking down the demon that killed Mom."

"The most important thing right now is getting John back. Look boys I know you want that too, but if the Colt is what I think it is and we give it up, John will never forgive us. We've got to be smart about this thing."

"Bobby, you're just as bad as Dad is. I can't believe that you'd even consider not giving Meg the gun," Sam snapped.

Bobby rose from the barstool bearing down on the younger man, Dean quickly stepped between the two men. He pushed Sam back then turned on the older man.

"Both of you stop it. God, first I'm in the middle between Dad and Sammy now you Bobby. Look we all want the same thing…to get Dad and the baby back. But Bobby's right we need that gun, and if we did give it to Meg I'm betting that she'll just kill him anyway."

"So we make her think she's getting what she wants, and use her to find Dad," Sam replied. He settled back into his seat. "Can we do that?"

Bobby nodded.

"Yeah, I'm thinking we have to. I know where there's an antique shop in Lincoln. We can come up with a fake gun. Something that looks old enough and enough like the Colt to pass. She's likely never seen it before. Not may people have."

Sam sighed.

"The problem is the three vampires. Ellen says that the female, Kate, was the one that approached her about taking Dad. But she also said that there are two male vampires with Kate. Meg will probably bring one of them along as back up, but that still leaves two with Dad. We've got to take out Meg or the vampire and get one of them back here to talk."

"I say we kill the vamp, and bring the demon bitch here," Dean added. "We can exorcise her ass, and find out where the others are holding Dad."

Bobby nodded in agreement.

"That's a plan."

Suddenly Sam cocked his head at the bar, and the woman sitting behind it. She was staring, unfocused at the floor not paying any attention to the three men gathered around the end of the bar. Bobby frowned; it seemed to him that Ellen wasn't exactly firing on all her cylinders right now. He glanced at the door, as Ellen once again gazed at the front window. It seemed as if she was almost waiting for something. Then a horrible thought crossed his mind, maybe she was waiting for someone. Someone who had been gone awhile. He didn't have time to worry about that right now. He and the boys had to get to Lincoln before nightfall and get that fake gun.

Dean and Sam stood beside the Impala while Bobby made his purchase in the Old Time Antiques store in downtown Lincoln. When the older man came out of the shop he pulled out a bag out and handed it to Dean. The younger man opened the bag glancing down at the gun. It was almost the same size as the Colt.

Bobby pulled the real gun out of the box and loaded it. He handed it to Dean who tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. Bobby loaded the fake gun and placed it in the wooden box.

"Well, we're as ready as we'll ever be."

Nodding Bobby glanced down at his watch. It was just a few minutes past five in the afternoon. Sunset was a long time in coming, but it was over-cast, cloudy and that might mean that the vampires would be up and moving. Pulling his cell phone out Bobby found John's number and punched the button.

Meg answered the phone right way as if she had been expecting him to call. Bobby bristled at the tone of her voice.

"So you decided that he was worth the trade?" she asked. He could hear the sly amusement in her voice.

"Look, I want to know that John is okay before we do this. I'm not just handing the gun over without some assurances."

"You don't really have much of a choice do you? One thing that you know for sure is that I will kill him if I don't get the gun. So save any false bravado and meet me where I tell you. If I'm satisfied that the gun is good I'll tell you where you can find Johnny boy."

"There's an abandoned barn just a few miles from the Roadhouse meet me there," Bobby said. Glancing at his watch he hissed. He and the boys were going to have to move their asses to get back there, but he had the place already set up. He could hear the hesitation in Meg's voice and he added, "There are too many witnesses at the Roadhouse, don't want any interference do we?"

Her voice stuttered a bit again, and Bobby smiled. Demons weren't any smarter than human beings when it came down to it. And they were greedy and arrogant. She probably thought she had him suckered, so why not do it his way? Finally, Meg agreed.

"Okay, sure I'll be there."

Turning to Kate she motioned the female vampire forward. Kate glanced down at John stroking his cheek, then jerked her head at the two males.

"Keep an eye on him, but don't kill him - not yet. We may need him if this goes bad. I'll call you when we have the gun and have taken care of the others then you can have him."

The two women walked out the door. John watched them go then settled back against the sofa watching the two male vampires though slitted eyes. The larger male, the bulky black vampire with the shaved head, settled down on the sofa beside John. He grinned running a finger down John's cheek to his neck, tilting his head back. John tried to jerk away, but the other vampire sat down beside him trapping him between their two bodies.

John frowned.

"Your lady friend said you can't kill me."

The younger male smiled.

"We don't want to kill you. Where's the fun in that?"

The black male's thick fingers worked the buttons on John's shirt, baring his chest. He raked nails lightly over the sleek skin grinning as thin lines of red welled on the human's skin. John hissed in pain. With a deeply indrawn breath the vampire leaned down flicking his tongue over the cut, lapping at the blood.

John's breath caught in his chest, and he swallowed convulsively. The other male slipped his hand down working the buckle on John's belt, drawing it out making sure that John followed the movement with his eyes.

"Don't…" John hissed.

Grinning he leaned in.

"Hush...honey, I'm not going to hurt you…much."

John grunted as the black vampire tugged him up and off the sofa as if he were holding a child. The other vampire pulled John's jeans down to his ankles pressing his hand between John's thighs. John struggled trying to break free but with his hands bound and the two large male vampires flanking him he was trapped.

The dark-skinned head dipped low, teeth grazing John's neck. John felt a stab of heat knife its way into his belly. Groaning he tried to pull away, but the blunt-fingered hands were on his shoulders holding him in place. One hand slipped down from John's shoulder to cup his breast and John cried out as the other vampire grasped his knee in one hand and buried his face in John's groin. John was hard, aching and the vampire's mouth closed around the head of his cock. He howled as teeth nicked the sensitive skin.

Suddenly the vampire holding his shoulder reared back teeth flashing in the soft light. The white vampire bit down on John's cock and shoved two fingers up into him as the black vampire sank his teeth into John's neck. John screamed as he came.

John lay across the sofa watching the two male vampires playing cards at the dining room table. The dried blood flaking on his neck itched, but his hands were still bound and he couldn't scratch, he itched in other places too, but he desperately didn't want to think about that. They hadn't fed on him much and John was sure that they were just teaching him a lesson, making him aware of just how much power they had over him. John felt humiliated, and disgusted. He had had their mouths and hands on him, and he had come.

Bobby was standing in the doorway to the barn when a 1972 Dodge pulled into the dirt road leading to the farm. He watched as the car turned the bend in the road and pulled to a halt. Behind the wheel was a small blond woman and sitting beside her was another woman, taller more dangerous looking, and Bobby knew she was the vampire.

Kate slid out of the car, stretching and smiling at the man. He took a step back as her eyes flashed silver in the fading sunlight. With a grim expression Bobby walked toward the two women as Meg came around the car and stopped next to the vampire. Bobby looked over the interior of the car and frowned.

"Where's John. I thought we had a deal."

Meg shrugged.

"He's safe for now. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't pulling anything on me. Where's the Colt?"

Bobby lifted the box flipping the metal clasps. The lid sprang back revealing the blue velvet lining and the gun inside. With a smile Meg stepped forward lifting the gun out. She ran her fingers over the smooth lines turning the weapon over in her slender hands. Bobby watched her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Welt, it certainly looks like the real thing," she said.

Suddenly she whirled firing the gun at the vampire. The shot hit her mid chest ripping a hole in her shirt and knocking Kate off her feet. With a snarl the vampire came up off the ground.

"You shot me!" she hissed.

Meg flung the gun at the man.

"Yeah, and you're still alive. I swear, after everything I heard about you hunters, I've got to tell you, I'm a little under-whelmed. Lackluster, man. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find out? She shrieked storming to Bobby and slamming him back against the wall. "Where's the gun old man?"

"Hey, bitch over here," Dean said stepping out of the door to the barn.

Kate whirled, snarling and baring her teeth. Dean raised the Colt and fired one shot catching the vampire squarely in the forehead. Her head jerked back and she spun around hitting the ground, Meg watched wide-eyed as Kate dissolved into gray ash.

Bobby grabbed the woman by the arms, and flung her bodily into the barn door. She rose to her full height which was considerably less than his and managed to shove him back. But Sam came out of the shadows behind her and flung her into a chair. Dean pressed the Colt against her cheek, and Meg made a movement as if to come for him, but stuttered to a halt.

Bobby grinned pointing to the rough hewn ceiling of the barn and the elaborate design painted on the raw wood. Meg hissed.

"Devil's Trap," Bobby said grinning. "You ain't going anywhere, Honey."

Bobby bound her hand and foot to the chair while Sam pulled out a book and vial of Holy Water. With a grim look Sam splashed the Holy Water over her watching as she writhed and screamed as smoke curled into the air. Bobby took the book and turned to the ritual of exorcism.

"You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask."

Meg grinned at Sam licking her lips. He and Dean ignored her looking instead at the older man. Bobby walked over handing the book back to Sam.

"I salted the doors and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain't getting in."

Nodding Dean walked over to the woman bound in the chair. He leaned over using his greater height and weight to menace her.

"Where's our father, Meg?"

"You didn't ask very nice."

Dean grimaced.

"Where's our father, bitch?"

"Jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, I forgot. You don't."

She grinned at him looking up from under her lashes. He leaned back slapping her across the face. Her head snapped back and Meg licked the thin trickle of blood running down her lip.

"That's kind of a turn on, you hitting a girl."

Dean frowned cocking his head.

"You're no girl"

Bobby motioned him away from the chair.

"Dean."

Sam patted his brother's arm.

"You okay?"

"Dean, you've got to be careful with her. Don't hurt her," Bobby said slowly.

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl, didn't you know that? That's a human being possessed by a demon."

Dean sighed casting a glance back at her over his shoulder.

"Actually that's good news. We can use that. Hit it Sammy."

Sam lifted the book of prayers and began intoning the ritual of exorcism in Latin. The words flowed smoothly from years of practice. Suddenly Meg moaned in pain, and Sam hesitated.

"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered, "An exorcism? Are you serious?"

Dean smiled.

"Oh, we're goin' for it, baby; head-spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards."

Sam continued reading, and Meg suddenly grimaced and moaned in pain. Sam stopped reading again looking at the woman over the book. Meg jerked against the ropes.

"I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna rip the bones from your body."

Dean pushed the gun against the side of her face again, turning her head toward him.

"No, you're gonna burn in hell, unless you tell us where our Dad is. Well, at least you'll get a nice tan."

He looked up at Sam nodding.

Sam picked up the book again. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus , omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio, et secta diabolica."

Meg clenched her teeth writhing in pain.

"He begged for his life with tears in his eyes, begged for the baby inside him. Begged to see his sons one more time. That's when I cut his throat and left him for the vampires."

Dean grunted twisting his hand in her hair, pulling her face around.

"For your sake, I hope you're lying. 'Cause if it's true, I swear to God, I will march into hell myself, and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God."

He backed away from her motioning Sam to continue reading.

Sam turned back to the book.

"Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis."

Suddenly, a cool wind blew through the barn, lifting Sam's hair. Sam hesitated for a moment then continued reading.

"Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt."

Meg screamed again, shaking uncontrollably.

"Where is he?"

"You just won't take "dead" for an answer, will you?

"Where is he?" Dean screamed in her face.

"Dead!"

Dean shook his head.

"No, he's not! He's not dead, he can't be!" He turned to Sam. "What are you lookin' at? Keep reading."

Sam ducked his head back to the book.

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, domine. Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."

Meg screamed loudly, her chair moving around the room as Sam continued to chant the prayer. The candles in the room flickered as she screamed one final time. Her chair stopped rocking and Meg gasped.

"He will be!"

Dean motioned for his brother to stop for a moment.

"Wait! What?"

"He's not dead. But he will be after what the vampires do to him."

Suddenly Meg screamed as her head tipped back. A thick oily black cloud erupted from her mouth. Her body seemed to fold in on itself and Meg collapsed back against the chair blood running from her mouth. Dean reached out quickly untying her hands and caught her as she fell to the floor.

"She's still alive, Bobby," Dean said. "Call 911 on your cell phone."

Meg groaned as he laid her gently on the ground.

"It's been a year…"

Dean leaned down.

"What was that?"

"I've been like that for a year, oh my god, the things that I did."

Her face twisted in pain. Dean took a bottle of water that Bobby retrieved from the car. He bent down holding her head as she took a sip.

"Was she telling the truth about our Dad?"

"Yeah, the others have him…the vampires I guess. They're waiting until she calls then, they'll kill him."

"Where are they?"

"A house, but not one that someone lives in. It was empty and most of the other lots were not built on. I don't remember where."

Bobby nodded.

"We passed a sign for a new development on the highway. I know where it is."

Meg groaned coughing, and blood leaked out of her mouth, Shuddering she clasped Dean's hand, then lay still. He looked down at the vacant eyes flinching.

"What are we going to do Bobby?"

Bobby glanced down at the dead woman at their feet. She was beyond their care now, but John wasn't. He hated to do it, but finally Bobby motioned for Dean to help him wrap the young woman's body in a blanket.

"We'll take her to the Roadhouse; leave her with Ellen and Jim to look over. Then go on down to that housing development. When we have John back we'll lay the girl to rest proper."

John was lying on the sofa. He hadn't moved since the male vampires had attacked him earlier. He strained trying to listen for any sounds that they might make, but they were silent watching the door as if they were waiting for Kate and Meg to return. John knew his chances of getting out of this alive were remote and growing slimmer all the time. He closed his eyes, grieving for the life inside him.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught his attention at the same time as the two male vampires. John struggled to rise, as the black vampire rose quietly moving to the window. He lifted the curtains and smiled as the Dodge Kate had been driving pulled up in front of the house. With a grin he came to the sofa lacing his fingers through John's hair and pulling his head back.

"Looks like its supper time."

The other vampire frowned waving him back.

"Wait until Kate gets here. She'll be angry if we kill him and they haven't got the gun."

Both male vampires stepped away from John as the doorknob turned on the front door. The fair skinned vampire smiled.

"Did you get the gun?"

Suddenly the door swung inward, caromed off the wall and shattered the plaster. Dean stormed in Colt raised.

"This gun?"

The shot took the white male vampire in the forehead he staggered back, collapsing in on himself and shattered into dust. The other vampire whirled making a run for John on the sofa, but Bobby smashed the window in raising a crossbow. The bolt swished through the air catching the vampire in the chest. He hissed jerking the bolt free as a gunshot rang out, and he bent down staring at the gaping hole in his chest. His face twisted into a sneer as he managed to staggered a few steps forward then drop heavily on the ground.

Sam hustled around his brother raising a machete. The blade fell quickly, neatly severing the vampire's head from his body, and Sam sighed. Bobby was in the door and around Dean before he or Sam could even think about freeing John. The two younger men hung back as Bobby quickly ran to the sofa. John closed his eyes.

"I didn't think that you'd come."

Dean smiled.

"How you doing, Dad?"

"Could be better, son. Cut me loose."

Sam offered Bobby the book of prayers and a flask of holy water. John frowned.

"What are you doing? Bobby, cut me loose."

"In a bit, baby. We've got to do something first."

Bobby opened the flask splashing Holy Water on John. He spluttered and frowned. Sam shrugged as Bobby glanced back over his shoulder at the younger man.

"This in your vision?"

"It's different, but remember he said that Holy Water wouldn't work on him. We need to be sure."

Bobby picked up the book and began reading the same ritual they had just used on Meg. John cringed trembling.

"What are you doing, Bobby? I'm tired and I really want to go back to the Roadhouse."

Bobby didn't pause in reading, but as he reached the mid-point of the ritual with no visible effect on John he began to relax. Dean watched his father's face, and frowned as John seemed to shrink away from his lover.

"Keep going, Bobby."

"Dean," John whispered, "Why are you all against me. Please let me free."

Bobby's voice rose on the final intonations of the prayer and Sam wiped his hand over his face. Suddenly John moaned, tipping his head back he vomited up the black oily cloud of the demon possessing him. Dean jumped away from the thing, bringing the gun up. He took one shot, the bullet ripping into the cloud, but it seemed to have no effect. The demon fled the room through the shattered window and into the night.

John sagged against the back of the sofa. Bobby dropped the book. Fishing a pocket knife out of his jeans he gently pushed John forward and cut the duct tape on his hands. John fell into the older man's arms and Bobby pulled him tight, holding John against his chest as he kissed the other man's face and neck. John finally pushed away.

"How'd you know? I was terrified that you wouldn't figure it out, that the bastard would get to you before you could."

Dean dropped onto the sofa behind John stoking his father's back.

"Sammy had a vision. About you being possessed. He said it ended badly, but damn it I think we dodged a bullet on that one."

Bobby nodded pulling John to his feet; he slipped one arm around the younger man's waist.

"Let's get John back to the Roadhouse. I intend to deal with Ellen Harvelle on account of this."

"Bobby, don't. Please I just want to get out of here."

The bar was quiet when the four men got back to the Roadhouse. The hunters who had gathered for the memorial service for Marti Chavez had long since gone. Jim Murphy was sitting at the bar. Bobby crossed the room and deposited John in a chair. He turned to Jim.

"Did you get anything out of Ellen? Did she let these things kill Marti just to get us here?"

Jim shrugged.

"I've tried talking to her. She won't say anything. How's John."

Bobby shrugged.

"A little off. I'm going to take him back to the hotel, the boys too. I still want you to do that ceremony for us, if you're up to it. Maybe tomorrow."

"I'll stay as long as you need me." Jim replied.

Bobby clapped the other man on the shoulder and helped John to his feet.

John sat huddled on the bed in the cheap motel room he shared with Bobby. Sam and Dean stood in the doorway watching their father shiver. Bobby waved them out, following them before saying,

"I'm going talk to your daddy. He's pretty shaken up about something and I don't think it was just the demon."

"Something happened to him when he was alone with the vampires?" Dean asked. Bobby nodded.

"Yeah and I think I know what it was. He's gonna beat himself up over it too if I don't stop it right now. "

The older man smiled at the boys.

"I got Doc Curtis to fix me up with a little valium. I'm going to dope him up a little and get him to sleep. We'll meet you boys in the morning."

Dean nodded.

"Then we deal with Ellen."

Bobby frowned.

"John don't need to deal with that right now. So just keep it to yourself. She's made her bed; you think that any hunter will ever trust her again? What ever deal she made she's just gonna have to live with it."

Closing the door behind him Bobby went into the bathroom and came back with a glass of water. He shook one of the tablets out of the bottle and settled on the bed beside John. Without a word John took the pill and the water, and that made Bobby feel bad. If John was that far gone it was pretty bad. Finally, John leaned back on the stack of pillows.

"Bobby, while I was at the house, the two male vampires. They fed on me, but the one he…"

"John they raped you. It wasn't your fault."

"You don't understand….I…"

"That doesn't matter. Did you ask for it, hell, could you even stop it from happening? No, whatever happened it wasn't your choice."

John sighed letting his eyes close. Bobby laid down beside him pulling John into his arms.

"There is something I want to ask you. I…uhm… talked to Jim Murphy about a ceremony."

John took a deep breath. He hadn't been counting on this at all. He had thought that Kate had been lying or at least bending the truth. In all the years since Mary had died John had kept a part of himself back, separate from even his sons. He wasn't sure that he could give that to Bobby. But lying safe in the shelter of the older man's arms he wondered if it wasn't time, it couldn't hurt Mary. John would always love her, see her smile in Dean and her genuine wonder at the gift of life in Sammy. But he also wondered what he would see of Bobby in the child he was carrying. The boys certainly wouldn't begrudge John a little bit of happiness after so long.

Bobby had fallen silent hurt by John's lack of response. He lay back staring down at the other man until John's expression cleared, a sort of dawning realization that was plainly written on his face. And then John smiled.

"Yes," he whispered.

Jim Murphy closed the door to the bedroom he was staying in at the Roadhouse. It was a small backroom, removed from the rest of the family quarters that Ellen had shared with her daughter. He sat down at the small table head bowed over the Bible open in front of him. He was been counseling Ellen trying to understand just what had made her betray John, all of them, in the way she had. Jim was afraid.

As the night deepened he grew too tired to read any longer. Something prickled along his spine, a deep sense of dread settling on him. Jim knew, without real proof, that Ellen had made some kind of a deal with the demon in exchange for giving up John Winchester. He had asked her about it again and again but she had denied it. He was certain that she was going to pay the price for her choice. The feeling of dread was so intense that Jim rose from his seat, pacing between the table and the door.

Carefully he pulled a canister of salt out of his suitcase and poured a line across the door jamb. He supposed that he should stand watch over Ellen but he was confused and resentful. Whatever was going to happen he was in no position to stop it. Jim knelt down beside the bed and closed his eyes in prayer. It was all the help he could offer her now.

Ellen sat on the bed in her room staring at the window. The light had faded completely and only the pale amber of the few lamps in the parking lot provided any illumination. She kept the lights in the room off, feeling that it was more appropriate.

The bar was empty, all the hunters gathered for the memorial service had gone, only Jim Murphy remained and she couldn't face him. He had tried talking to her but Ellen had made her choice, there was no going back. Chest jerking in a silent sob Ellen crossed the room and opened the door.

She must have fallen asleep, but Ellen came awake with a start. He neck ached from being bent at an angle and she sat up straight against the headboard of the bed. Something had disturbed her sleep. Cocking her head she listened. Somewhere in the bar a floorboard creaked. Ellen stiffened holding her breath, listening. The room was silent, nothing stirred.

She was almost sure that she had been mistaken, when the soft sound of footfalls pattered in the hallway. The door to the room was open so the sounds didn't pause. Ellen turned away from the doorway, gazing out at the parking lot.

The footsteps were more certain now, the rising and falling cadence shuffling, painfully slow but steady. The hushed silence of the room was broken by the stiff movements of someone behind her. Ellen bowed her head, and the movements stalled to a halt beside her.

"Joann," she whispered.

And then Ellen realized what was wrong. The deep silence of the room was unbroken by breathing. No soft exhalation painted the back of her neck, as hands settled on Ellen's shoulders. Hands that were cold.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

The Plague Pt 12

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean) A chunk of dialogue for this chapter came right out of Devil's Trap.

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Many thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta on the story.

Jim Murphy looked at his reflection in the mirror. He studiously tried to avoid looking at anything else in the room. He winced when his eyes were drawn to the bed, a huge red velvet monstrosity that, at least, had been carefully remade before he borrowed the room.

The small group of people gathered in the parking lot was waiting for him. He knew that Bobby had wanted a small ceremony, and was surprised beyond belief that John had agreed to it at all. But somehow word had gotten out at the restaurant and now the few hunters that had gathered on the lakeshore at dawn to mourn the passing of one of their own now were hell bent on gathering together again to celebrate the union of two others.

The vehicles formed a caravan as the hunters pulled out of the parking lot following Caleb in his jeep, Jim riding shot gun. He accompanied a few hunters in his life, although never hunted on his own and the buzz of adrenaline ran just under his skin even now. The jeep was followed by Sam and Dean in the Impala and John and Bobby in John's huge black truck. Behind them a few others were following along.

The lake was still impossibly beautiful, serene and calm, the picture of idyllic perfection. The water spread out smooth and green, glinting with pale morning sunlight. Beside the calm water white sand stretched out for miles, falling off into the distance, just beyond the curve of the horizon. The glade that they stood in was surrounded by tall oak trees, foliage supple and green from the spring rains. Interspersed between the tall green oaks were lilac trees; the purple and white blossoms carpeting the sand at their feet.

Bobby and John were the first to the beach; they walked together just a few feet away from the others, heads bent in discussion. Jim herded the boys away with the hunters allowing the other men time to focus themselves.

The assembled group was settled in a small semi-circle Jim stepped forward, motioned John and Bobby to his side. He smiled holding up a hand.

"My friends we have come here today to this beautiful place to witness the joining together of two souls. These two men, well know to us all, desire to share their lives and we are honored to bear witness to their joining."

Jim smoothly took John's arm and gently moved him into place beside Bobby, the two facing the pastor. Sam and Dean stood just to the side of their father smiling broadly. Jim took the Bible he held and opened it although he had performed enough weddings in his day that he didn't even need the book. Still it made his heart glad to hold it.

After offering the prayer Jim smiled at Bobby.

"Robert Henry Singer do you take this man, John Francis Winchester as your life mate, to have and to hold in the dark that may cross your way and the light that may grace your day, forsaking all others and cleaving only unto him, 'til death do you part?"

Bobby swallowed.

"I do."

"What token do you offer as a symbol of your undying love?"

"A ring," Bobby said, quickly pulling the small gold band out of his pocket.

Jim nodded motioning to John.

"Place the ring on the third finger of John's left hand and repeat these vows…John, with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

John bent his head down watching the gold band slide onto his finger. He smiled and closed his hand just enough so that his thumb could touch the ring. He caressed the satiny finish feeling the smooth metal glide under his callused fingertip.

Suddenly Jim Murphy's amused voice caught his attention.

"John?"

"Uhm… yeah, I do," he said flushing.

Bobby winked at him. Jim grinned.

"I haven't asked you anything yet, but your answer is duly noted. Just for the sake of dotting all the I's and crossing all the T's repeat after me…"

After the ceremony was finished Sam and Dean walked around the edge of the lake. Sam was smiling softly and Dean wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders giving him a one armed hug of sorts.

"I can't do that for you Sammy."

"I don't need it. It wouldn't be right. You're my brother first, what we do is just between us and for no one else," Sam said easily.

Dean cocked his head, but Sam seemed genuinely to believe it so he let it pass.

"Still how are we going to explain the baby when it gets here? I hate that we'll end up telling people that the father is some nameless guy you were banging."

"What difference does it make? It'll still be a Winchester, still be one of us…ours."

Dean nodded steering his younger brother back to where the older men stood. The other hunters had gone, and Jim was talking to John and Bobby waiting for the boys to join them. Bobby had his arm around John's waist and turned toward Dean when they walked up.

"So Pastor Jim, Mr. Singer…" Dean grinned, "Mrs. Singer."

John rolled his eyes.

"Bobby and I are going to drive Jim back to the airport this afternoon. You boys want to pack it in and follow us?"

Dean started to answer but Jim stilled him with a faint shrug.

"Maybe we'll hang around a bit longer. Aren't you and Bobby supposed to be on your honeymoon?"

"I'm four months pregnant, I think that boat has already sailed," John said, "Besides Bobby already made the earth move this morning, what I really want is lunch. I'm starving."

Jim noticed the grim expressions on the other men's faces. Bobby looked at him, and Jim was certain he was almost green. Apparently food cravings had set in, and they must have been some doozies if the look on their faces was anything to go by. Dean sighed.

"I guess we can go to lunch a little early."

Sam was making frantic gestures behind their father's back, but Dean just shrugged lifting an eyebrow. With a grimace Sam kicked him in the ankle.

"Ouch," Dean snapped.

Bobby ushered John into the truck and climbed in, rolling down the window.

"Meet us at the strip off Highway 34 in Lincoln there's some good places to eat there. As long as John doesn't want liverwurst and cream cheese on jalapeño bagels again we're good to go."

"Hey, you know what might be good…"

John's voice carried to them as they climbed into the Impala. Bobby grunted, he didn't cross himself but he looked like he wanted too.

Jim settled into the rear seat of the Impala. Sam turned around.

"I know that you wanted to talk to us, Jim. What do you need us to do?"

Jim sighed.

"Ellen made a deal with the demon in exchange for giving John to the vampires. Last night I was sure that something was in the bar with us. I think that it was Jo."

"You think that Ellen asked for Jo back from the dead?" Dean asked over his shoulder. Jim shrugged.

"I think that she asked for Jo back. What I fear is that she wasn't too specific about it being alive again. Something unnatural was in that place. If the demon did send Jo back as something undead it needs to be set right again."

Dean frowned.

"After what Ellen did to our Dad why should we do anything for her?"

Jim offered him a pointed look.

"You're not doing it for Ellen. I'm not even sure that she came out of this intact, at least mentally. You're doing this because it is what you do; rid the world of the unnatural evil that exists. John raised you to do that, and it needs to be done. I would have tried myself, but I've never been a hunter. I offer aid and shelter that is my role in this."

"All right, but I don't want Dad involved."

"No, we agree there. That's why I wanted to speak to you and Sam. And I feel badly about involving Sam considering that he's pregnant, too. You all got lucky that John and the baby came out of this physically unscathed."

Sam turned around in the seat eyes boring into Jim. The older man turned away. Finally, he returned the younger man's gaze. Sam swallowed.

"What do you mean, physically unscathed. Is there something wrong with Dad or the baby?"

"No, Jack Curtis looked John over last night. He said that John was fine but that the vampires had fed from him. Not enough to be a danger to John or the baby, but…"

"What, Jim?"

"Well, you are aware of the sexual aspects of a vampire's attack. Jack did a pretty thorough exam on John and he was certain that your Dad was sexually assaulted by the vampires when they fed on him. I'm not sure how much guilt John feels over it. I know that Bobby was pretty shaken last night, not that he'd ever let John know that."

Dean slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, and the car jerked across the lanes. Sam grasped the side of the seat.

"Dean, take it easy."

"God, whatever Jo does to Ellen she has it coming. Why should be do anything to help that bitch."

Jim frowned.

"Dean, I've already told you, it's not for Ellen, it's for anyone else that this thing might harm. This thing that Joann has become."

"Okay, I'm glad that Bobby and Dad are taking you to the airport. We'll take care of it then meet Dad and Bobby back at the house in Durham."

The restaurant was quiet, not many people eating at this early hour. Now that John was no longer suffering from morning sickness he had been struck by food cravings. Most of the things that he had idly been eating were normal enough that it hadn't really bothered the others, but lately John's cravings had taken a decidedly unique turn, and often Sam, who was now suffering from morning sickness himself, couldn't stand to look at his father eating. The straw that had really broken the camels' back as far as Dean was concerned had been liverwurst and cream cheese, which either one alone made him sick to his stomach but combined on jalapeno bagels was too gross to contemplate.

Now the three men followed Bobby and John into the building. It turned out to be an old-fashioned cafeteria but it was close to the airport. Dean sighed, at least with pre-cooked food his Dad couldn't get too weird. He followed John through the line making his selections when they got to the desserts John piled a bowl of lime Jello on. Dean sighed; well lime Jello was reasonably inoffensive even if he would never have eaten it. When they reached the end of the line John leaned over asking the girl behind the counter for something. He smiled when she returned with a small plastic container.

They settled around the table and Bobby glanced down at John's plate.

"Honey, I didn't know you like Jello."

John shrugged. "It's okay. You've just got to dress it up a little."

"Yeah," Dean said stabbing a fork in the direction of John's food. "What are you dressing it up with?"

John dumped the bowl of chopped food over the Jello and spooned it up. Sighing he dipped the spoon again, grinning.

"Onions."

Quickly Bobby fished a small white capped prescription bottle out of his pocket.

"Make you sure you take your meds, John."

"What's the matter Bobby? Bothered by a little Jello and onions?"

Bobby grimaced.

"Hell, I 'm bothered by it going down, John. I sure as hell don't want to watch it coming back up again."

After they had finished eating John and Bobby loaded Jim into the cab of the truck. Dean leaned against the side of the truck, and Bobby rolled down the window.

"Sammy and I are going to head back to the house. We'll meet you there."

John leaned around Bobby smiling.

"Take your time. We'll see to Jim."

Dean and Sam stood besides the Impala watching as the older man drove away. Dean slid into the driver's seat, and Sam settled in beside him. Turning Sam said,

"I think that we'd better talk to Ellen Harvelle, and see if we can get any kind of an answer out of her before we start looking for Jo."

"If Ellen is still alive. From what Jim said, whatever showed up at the Roadhouse last night wasn't Jo."

Bobby pulled the truck out of the airport parking lot, and turned onto the highway. He was happy to be on the road home, and grateful to have John and the baby safe beside him again. He didn't intend to let John get out of his sight for a good long time. John was all but dozing in his seat when he suddenly sat up right.

"You okay, baby?"

"Yeah, I should have reminded Dean that he was supposed to go by that garage in town about a job."

"I've got plenty of work to do at the shop. Dean doesn't need to go to some garage in town."

"Bobby, the boys and I are looking for jobs. We can't keep living off of you…"

"You've got a job, John, taking care of that little one inside you."

"That's doesn't pay the bills, Bobby. We never intended for you to support all of us. Sammy is going to get a job at the library, it's not much right now but it'll work. And I think I can get a job tending bar at Big Jim's."

"That's a biker place. No way in Hell! You are not working at some biker bar, John. I won't have it."

"Just what makes you think you've got any say in the matter…" John snapped, but Bobby leaned over the seat and grasped John's left hand lifting until the sunlight glinted off the gold band on his finger.

"I'm your husband, John and that baby's father, and that gives me all the say in the world."

John gaped at him.

"The hell you say. Look Bobby it isn't fair for me and the boys to ask you to provide for us. We're all capable of working."

"It's my job to take care of you and the kids."

John snorted.

"Bobby this little one is the only one that's your kid, besides Dean is twenty-seven and Sam is twenty-three. I think they're a bit too old for a stepdaddy. We want to pull our weight around here. I don't expect you to take care of us all."

"John, I didn't bring this up before but you really don't have to worry about that. I've got it covered. Don't talk just listen? You know my family comes from Texas, don't you?"

Bobby paused and John nodded looking as if he was going to ask just what that had to do with anything, but before he could say anything Bobby continued.

"It's just, my granddaddy, well… he was sort of a prospector except they didn't find gold or silver. John, I own one-fourth of one of the largest oil fields in the state. Last time I talked to my accountant it was worth sixteen million, and with the investments and all I'm talking a good twenty million. You don't have to work."

"But…my god, why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought that you'd get offended. I know, why do I live in that little house and work on that crappy garage and salvage yard. It suits me. I like that house; I was born in that house. You know all that land we went shooting on, the two thousand acres? I own that too. Well, actually you own it now. I had it put in your name. Same with the house."

"Why did you do that?" John said, "Hell we weren't even married."

"I wanted to be sure you and the kids, and that means Dean and Sammy too, had a place to live just in case you decided that it wasn't worth it putting up with me."

"Take it back," John said. Bobby looked at him.

"I can't do that Johnny. I won't do that. You know we're married now, share and share alike."

"I don't have anything to share; you're giving too much Bobby," John said quietly.

Bobby leaned over and patted John's belly.

"You're wrong, Johnny. You're giving me everything worth having."

"You should have told me, it wouldn't have made a difference, Bobby. I don't know what to say."

"That's why I didn't want to tell you right away. I didn't want you seeing me as anything but some good old boy. I love you, John and I love that baby more than anything in the world. You won't hear it very often, that's just not how I am. And I know you're the same. But for what's its worth just remember it, okay."

The Roadhouse looked deserted when Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot. Sam leaned forward glancing around the grounds, but nothing moved. Shrugging he turned to his brother.

"I don't see anything, Dean."

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, I know. That's what bothers me. It's twelve-fifteen in the afternoon. There should be somebody moving around in there. Ash is gone and all of the hunters I know of left yesterday, but Ellen should be up and around."

"We might as well check it out," Sam replied.

Pushing the door to the car open he stepped outside. Dean went to the trunk and hauled out the sawn off shotgun, checking the rounds before handing it to Sam. The younger man took it and watched as Dean pulled out the .45 and slammed in a clip.

The doors were locked but it took Sam less than two minutes to jimmy the lock. He stood up glancing back at Dean who just nodded. Sam took point lifting the shot gun and raking it around the interior of the front room.

The tables were empty; no one was behind the bar. The room was eerily quiet. Dean took up position behind Sam as the younger man walked to the bar. There was no sign of the woman who owned the place. Leaning over the bar Sam checked the bar-back then shrugged. Nothing.

"I don't know, Dean. It's pretty empty in here."

"Let's check the back areas, the family's apartment."

Dean jerked his head in the direction of the corridor behind the bar. Sam pushed the door open. The hallway itself was empty but Sam could see several doors leading into side rooms. The first door was open. It was a small bedroom. The single bed was neatly made but Sam could coarse grains of rock salt, in a line, on the window sills and at the door. The line was unbroken, and he was sure that this was the room that Pastor Jim had used the night before. He would have laid the salt lines when he felt Jo come into the building.

There was nothing useful in the room so they passed it by, moving on to the next door. It was locked; but Dean reared back kicking it in. The room was small; a walk in closet that was being used as a pantry of sorts. There were boxes and bags of various dried goods, alongside piles of linen. The single bulb cast a soft glow on the shelves, and neither young man could see anything unusual in the storage area.

The last door opened into a large, airy bedroom. In the center of the north wall was a huge old oak four poster bed piled high with pillows. The covers were rumpled as if someone had sat on the bed, but not actually lay down to sleep. Beside the bed was a pair of women's shoes, and Sam thought he remembered Ellen wearing something like them. He bent down pulling the shoes out from under the bed. Beside the shoes on the floor were a few stands of hair. They were too light to belong to the older woman, and Sam knew that Jo had pale blond hair. He lifted the strands up holding them out to his brother.

Dean glanced down shrugging. Sam shot him a look.

"Jo was blond. This has to be her hair."

"Yeah, but we don't know how long it's been here. It might be from before she died."

Sam shook his head.

"I don't think so Dean. Look how clean the rest of the room is. There's no dust on anything. Jo's been dead for almost six months from what I can tell. These must have been left last night."

"So we know that Jo came back. Where the hell did she go?"

Sam rose walking to the window. He could see the back yard and the small outbuilding at the edge of the property. The storage shed was on the lower end of the yard, deep in shadow and removed enough from the main building that not many people would bother going down there without a specific reason for doing so. He nodded.

"I say we check out the shed, it's small and dark, a good place to hide."

"At least maybe Ellen is out there. She sure as hell isn't in the bar anywhere," Dean grumbled.

The door to the storage shed was open slightly, hanging uselessly on bent hinges, and Dean was sure it had been damaged when the vampires had taken his father. John had not gone quietly. The floor was bare cement, stained in places by oil and rust. Piles of boxes and bags were scattered through out the small building. From somewhere behind the boxes came the sound of shuffling feet.

Dean raised the gun, and moved in front of Sam. He rounded the boxes and found Ellen sitting on a wooden crate. She was rocking gently holding something tight against her chest. Dean touched her shoulder and she uttered a brief shriek jumping to her feet. She had been holding a porcelain doll which tumbled to the ground at her feet. The doll's pale face shattered, sending shards of porcelain across the floor.

"All I wanted was my baby back. I came to terms with the fact that Bill was never coming back. I know that John salted and burned his body. I don't blame your Daddy for that; it was what Bill would have wanted. But to lose Jo, too. It's not fair. I just wanted what was left of my family back, you understand that don't you?"

Dean sneered. "You turned our Dad over to the vampires, Ellen. You put his life and the baby's life in danger. I don't give a damn about what you want."

Ellen grasped his arm.

"I didn't know John was pregnant. I wouldn't have done it. It was too late by the time I found out."

Sam sighed. "Why did you do it?"

"I thought, I was mistaken, but I thought that John and Bill. He knew about John being different. He told me about it, so I assumed that…"

"That's a damn poor excuse for what you did. And this thing with Jo. You know what comes back isn't the same as what went into the ground. Why do you think we salt and burn our dead. We all know it, Ellen. Where is she?" Dean asked.

"She was here last night. I know Jim Murphy told you. I thought she might come to me, and she did. But I was afraid, Dean. I was afraid that she was going to kill me. I ran, and when I got back she was gone. I don't know where she is. She was gone when I got back this morning. Please boys, I was wrong."

"Don't worry we're going to take care of it," Dean said. He reached out and took her hand pulling her out of the shed behind him. "Go inside Ellen. Sam and I are going to take care of this."

Scowling Ellen scooped up the shattered doll and wandered out of the shed door. Dean watched her climb the path up to the main building, then followed Sam across the yard and into the woods. Sam was half-way down the trail when he paused kneeling down and pressing his fingers to the moist soil at his feet. Dean stopped looking down over his brother's shoulders.

"Something?" he asked.

Sam nodded brushing the grass away from an indentation in the ground.

"Footprint, looks like a small shoe with some kind of heel. I'm going to assume it's Jo. I just wish I knew what Ellen had her buried in. Do we even know where her grave is, if we have to salt and burn her body?"

Dean shrugged.

"I'm thinking re-animation here. So if we have to burn her it'll be on the spot. See any more footprints?"

"Yeah, they're sketchy but following along the path. We should be able to find her easy enough."

Sam rose brushing his hands on his thighs then headed down the trail. Dean pulled his gun following along after the younger man. The path bent around a small copse of oaks, across a narrow stone bridge over a slow running creek. The water bubbled gently beneath their feet. Sam looked over the bridge but didn't see any signs of movement on the soft muddy shoulder of the creek.

The path narrowed and finally disappeared altogether as they crossed a small meadow. Just beyond the rise in the hill Dean could make out a thickly shadowed area surrounded by lilac trees and heavy underbrush. The wind ruffled the knee high grass they were walking in making it impossible for them to approach unheard. Sam paused holding up a hand and Dean drew to a halt beside him.

Something moved in the underbrush, the faint swishing sounds almost masked by the waving grasses. Sam brought the shot gun up then stepped forward. Dean followed along close behind.

The clearing was small, nothing more than a dip in the tree line with heavy vines climbing the larger thicker trunks. She was sitting on the ground, head bent as if she was asleep but when Sam moved closer she looked up, hissing. Whatever thing inhabited the small, slender body it was not the soul of the girl they had met once.

She launched herself at Sam with far more viciousness than he was expecting. Her hands came up raking down his arm. Blood welled on his skin streaming to the ground. Sam hissed in pain and brought the shot gun up firing once at point blank range. The shot hit her in the chest sending the girl sprawling on the ground. She glanced down at the gaping hole in her chest then sneered, eyes going red. Dean spat out a curse and fired the .45. He caught her squarely in the forehead sending her down again. Jo's body jerked once and her lips tipped open as a black oily cloud erupted from her mouth. The cloud rose into the air dissipating on the faint breeze. Dean grinned.

"That's one demon gone back to hell."

They hadn't really come prepared for burning the body so Sam got his arms under her shoulders and her knees raising her up. Jo was small, and even stiff with rigor, her body was easy to carry. He and Dean made their way back up the path to the storage shed.

Sam dropped Jo's body on the cement floor and Dean rummaged through the assembled boxes looking for a shovel.

They dug a trench in the soft soil behind the storage shed out of sight of the main building. Praying that Ellen would stay inside until they were finished Dean carefully laid the girl's body in the earth, then poured salt over her still form. Sam brought a can of gasoline from the shed and doused the body standing back while Dean struck a match.

It took longer than he had thought it would to burn her body, they had to re-soak her with gas twice and the stench of burning flesh made Sam ill. By the time Jo's body was reduced to ash his head was throbbing and his stomach roiled. Sam finally surrendered; taking a few steps away he retched and vomited up the remains of his lunch. Dean stood behind him silently rubbing soothing circles on his back until Sam could finally stand up straight. He looked pale, washed out in a way that made Dean worry.

"Can you get to the car or do you want me to try and drive around here?"

"No, I can make it; I just want to get out of here. Let's just go straight back to Bobby's okay."

Dean smiled. "Okay, straight up the road to the highway and home."

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

The Plague Pt 13

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Many thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the lovely beta on the story.

John's face twisted into a grimace and he blew out his breath. Bending over at the waist he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. With a grunt he huffed out his breath as much as he could then bent over again grasping the two sides of the cloth and tugging. The jeans rode up his thighs clamping his balls in a vise grip and he uttered a half-strangled moan. With a defeated look he turned to the closet surveying the empty hangers and the pile of denim at his feet. With a sigh John tugged at the jeans again.

A half-smothered snicker from the bed caught his attention and he turned a baleful glare on his loving partner.

"If you laugh just once, Singer, so help me God I'll kill you."

"I'm not laughing Johnny, believe me. I like my balls where they are. Look why don't you just put the sweatpants back on and we'll go over to the mall and buy you some of those pregnant-people clothes."

"Because I don't need pregnant-people clothes. I haven't gained that much weight. I can fit these jeans just fine. I think the boys shrank them in the dryer."

John took a deep breath and bent over at the waist again tugging the fly on the jeans. He grimaced and grunted until Bobby thought his lips were beginning to turn blue.

"All right that's enough, John," Bobby snapped.

John's head jerked up and he glared.

"And don't give me that look. You can't fit in the jeans, baby, its okay. You're almost six months gone now. If you do any more squeezing you're going to shoot the kid across the room. Save it for later. Now just buck up, put your sweatpants on and let's go to the mall."

"You might as well say it. I look like a beached whale. You're thinking it, aren't you?"

John surrendered shoving the jeans off his legs and settling on the bed in just his t-shirt and boxers. Bobby rolled his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Finally, he crawled up the bed and pulled John into his arms. John resisted at first, but Bobby muscled him a little, drawing an outraged look from his partner. John shivered and Bobby remembered how much being man-handled turned John on. With a grin he twisted John's arm a bit drawing a hissed snarl out of him. Bobby shoved John back on the bed, and slipped his boxers down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" John huffed.

Bobby grinned and leaned down biting John's lower lip between his teeth and simultaneously sliding one finger into John. He grinned around the flesh captured in his teeth when he found that John was wet already. John pulled his head away even though Bobby knew it had to hurt a little. He glanced down and watched as the tip of the younger man's tongue edged out lapping at the single drop of blood welling on his lip. John's eyes dropped to half-mast.

"That good, baby?" Bobby hissed nuzzling John's ear.

The growl that issued from John's chest was half purr and half warning. He tried to wriggle away, but Bobby pulled his finger out of John and licked it, bringing the digit to John's mouth. His tongue darted out tasting himself on Bobby's flesh. With a grin Bobby dropped his hand pushing two fingers inside the other man, and John's head tipped back mouth gaping open. Bobby swooped in again driving his tongue into John's mouth, working his thumb on the underside of John's cock at the base, a spot that seemed unusually sensitive to the younger man. John managed to get his hands between his body and his lover's, working the fly loose on Bobby's jeans. His cock was stiff and sprang out of his fly without John having to touch him.

Wrapping his large, warm palm around the older man John groaned. He worked Bobby's cock in the same rhythm as the fingers thrusting in and out of him, until John pulled his mouth away and uttered a deep moan. His body contracted around Bobby's fingers and the older man groaned as well, coming over John's hand. John panted raising his hand and licking it clean. Bobby watched mesmerized by the sight of his lover licking up his come. He tugged John's shirt down and his boxers up as much as he could without John raising his hips. There was no need to worry about cleaning John, for some reason they didn't understand he didn't come when he orgasmed now.

Bobby rolled over panting. Suddenly the door swung open and Sam walked into the room. Bobby jumped but before he could pull his jeans up Sam looked up and froze. His face went red and he whirled around.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," he mumbled and hurried out the door.

Sam tried to ignore the rustling sounds of Bobby and his Dad re-dressing as he stumbled down the hall. Dean opened the bathroom door and Sam ran into it bouncing off and hitting the wall behind him. Dean jumped forward trying to catch Sam and managed to wrap his arms around Sam's waist holding him up.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" he asked grinning.

Sam coughed then flushed, his mouth opening and closing. Dean gave him a sideways look narrowing his eyes.

"I uh…just walked in on Dad and Bobby in 'the act'," Sam muttered, blushing.

"Ewww that could be mentally destabilizing."

"They have really got to learn to lock the damn door," Sam said sighing.

Turning he caught sight of the two older men walking out of their bedroom. Bobby was red faced and nervous, John just looked annoyed. Sam wondered if his father was angry with him until he realized that John was dressed in dark blue sweatpants under his t-shirt. Bobby cleared his throat.

"We're going over to the mall."

John stood in front of the store looking up at the sign. The word Motherhood was splashed across the top of the open doors. It was bright pink, and the Os in Hood were shaped like little hearts. He grimaced.

"This is going to be fun."

Still when they actually got inside the store it wasn't as bad as John had feared. Bobby glanced around and was relived to see that the company had gotten a grip on the type of patrons most likely to buy things at the present, and had adjusted both sizes and colors to suit a more male oriented clientele.

He was also relieved to see that maternity clothes had evolved since his younger days when he had seen the wives of his friends in stretchy pants and pleated floral print shirts.

They found John jeans that had a drawstring waist and, under the fuller cut t-shirts, looked indistinguishable from his regular pants. The t-shirt was pleated just under the breast to allow for his expanding belly. John looked at himself in the mirror there was no hiding the fact that he was six months pregnant now. He sighed.

Bobby was grinning ear to ear and John felt like smacking him a good one, but the other man's enthusiasm was somewhat contagious and John finally surrendered with a modicum of good grace. He smiled.

Sam appeared with his own bundle of clothing and John thought that Bobby was jumping the gun a little. He frowned, at four months John had had a noticeable baby bump but Sam's belly was still flat as a board. At their last check up the doctor had explained to John that he was carrying to the front and Sam to the sides. It meant that John was going to look noticeably pregnant and Sam was not going to show as much, until he was much farther along. John had grumbled about it all the way home.

After their purchases had been bagged Bobby took the bags and walked out into the mall behind John. Quickly he transferred the bags into one hand and laced his fingers through John's. The younger man was still a little uncomfortable about public displays of affection, but Bobby was almost territorial about letting other people, especially men, know that John was spoken for.

Dean and Sam tagged along after the older men, talking quietly between themselves, watching as John unwound enough to let Bobby hold his hand. Sam smiled weakly. Dean was concerned about the younger man. John had gotten over his morning sickness after three months, but Sam was four months now and still ill most of the time. He was taking medication, but it seemed to be a hit or miss proposition. Sometimes is worked fine and sometimes not at all. He hadn't lost any weight, but he wasn't gaining weight either. John had started showing at four months, but Sammy wasn't. Of course John was eating, albeit oddly, more than he had been accustomed to and gained a little too much weight. His doctor wasn't worried about it and hadn't told him to watch his diet yet.

The mall was as crowded as they had seen it since the plague. Now almost seven months later, people were getting on with their lives. There were more couples and John wasn't the only obviously pregnant male in the place. A group of elderly couples were gathered in the café where they stopped for lunch. And there were some men with their children also eating at the small tables. One little girl with honey blond hair paused in front of Bobby and John. She smile shyly as John sat down offering her a grin in return. Suddenly she stepped closer, while her father looked on from the table beside them.

"Do you have a baby inside your tummy?" she asked cocking her head. "Can I feel it?"

John sighed, he was just getting used to the idea that being pregnant suddenly made him public property. Complete strangers, men included, felt they had the right to touch his belly at will. He nodded and the little girl giggled running forward. Her tiny hand looked so small and innocent against the dark blue of his shirt. Her eyes tipped down and she leaned in close murmuring to the baby inside him. John jumped a little when he felt the baby roll and kick, almost as if in response to her.

"Look, daddy," she said grinning, "She likes me."

Turning the child beamed up at John and he blushed under her intense scrutiny. John found himself caught in her gaze, blue eyes locked on his hazel ones.

"She's going to have pretty eyes, like yours."

"Mary," the little girl's father said motioning her to his side.

John felt his heart squeeze in his chest. He must have flinched because Bobby looked unsettled. They both knew what he was thinking. Bobby caught John's hand in his giving it a gentle squeeze. He turned toward the older man drawing a deep breath.

"She said the baby was a girl. What do you think?" John asked quietly.

"She's got a 50/50 chance of being right. I don't know, do you think it was foresight or something? I'll be happy no matter what. Do you want a girl?"

"I haven't given it much thought."

He rose walking with his partner to the counter to order food. The teen-aged boy at the cash register looked at John and flushed. He leaned over the counter looking intently at the older man's obvious bulge. Finally, John heaved a sigh.

"Go ahead you know you want to."

With a grin the young man laid his hand on the top of John's belly eyes widening in disbelief when the skin beneath his hand wriggled as the baby moved again. Sam and Dean both wandered up behind their father, both young men had secretly decided that being pregnant was good for John. He seemed mellower; of course, Bobby might have had something to do with that as well.

Dean grinned, he was hysterically amused by their father's more rotund appearance and the fact that this morning he had noticed that John was definitely beginning to get the pregnant 'waddle' when he walked. He was so looking forward to seeing Sammy with a rounded pregnant belly. Sometimes he wondered if it was a little kinky, but pregnant was a definite turn on for him.

They stayed at the mall for a few hours until Sam finally settled on a bench, face pale. Dean sat down beside him, bumping his shoulder against his brother. He frowned at Sam's sweaty, pale face.

"Are you okay, feeling sick or something?"

Sam shrugged.

"Yeah, a little. I'm going to call Doctor Kaplan; I don't think that the medication she prescribed for me is working. No matter what I eat it still makes me feel sick. And Dad isn't helping. I know he isn't doing it on purpose, but he comes up with the weirdest crap to eat, it's disgusting."

"Hey, we don't have to sleep with him. Bobby takes the brunt of all his griping about indigestion after he scarfs down one of his peanut butter, potato chip and banana sandwiches."

Sam frowned.

"Oh God, Dean, please don't."

"Sorry, we can go back to the house if you want. I know Dad has a doctor's appointment tomorrow, maybe you should go with him."

"I will. Let's tell Dad and Bobby that we're going back to the house," Sam said, wincing as his vision grayed out.

He turned to say something to Dean and although he could see his brother's face it was out of focus and seemed too far away. Sam pitched forward and only Dean's quick reflexes kept him from crashing face first onto the bench. Dean cringed.

"Dad, something's wrong with Sammy."

Dean was pacing the hospital waiting room while the doctor examined Sam. His nervous wandering was making John agitated and Bobby was having a hard time keeping both of them from barging into the room demanding answers. Finally, the doctor appeared at the door. She offered them all a reassuring smile.

"Sam is going to be fine. He's just dehydrated that's all. He told me that he has been having trouble with vomiting for the past few days. I'm going to keep him over night just to keep an eye on him, and get some intravenous fluids into him. I'm also going to change his medication to something a bit stronger. John how have you been doing since your last appointment?"

"Fine," he said tiredly. "I'm fine, just worried about Sammy."

Dr. Kaplan smiled.

"I'll see you in my office tomorrow. Don't forget we're doing the ultrasound. I'll see you there, Bobby?"

"Sure thing, Doc."

Dean, John and Bobby crowded around the bed. Sam looked weak, but his face had more color and he seemed to be in a better mood. Sighing he leaned back against the pillows as the nausea medication began taking effect. He yawned. Dean settled on the bed beside the younger man and Sam offered him a smile.

"You look a whole lot better than you did. I was afraid you were going to end up eating the floor. Feeling okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Yeah, a lot better, but the doctor is still making me stay tonight."

John settled on the other side of the bed.

"If she says you need to Sam its better that you stay, maybe a couple of days if necessary."

"I'm fine, Dad. I guess that I let it get away from me."

They sat around Sam's bed for most of the afternoon until Bobby noticed that John was all but nodding off in the chair. He rose, patting Sam on the shoulder.

"You get some rest, kiddo. I'm going to get your Daddy home, he looks beat. Come on Johnny let's get you out of here."

John grunted as the older man pulled him to his feet.

"You call me on my cell phone if you need me okay?"

Sam nodded tiredly. Dean settled in the chair his father had vacated turning the TV on. Sam glanced over at his brother.

"You don't have to stay, Dean. I'm fine. Why don't you go home with Dad and Bobby?"

Dean shrugged.

"I'll go when they kick me out later, after visiting hours. I might as well hang around and bug you for a little while; I've got nothing better to do."

Dean watched TV while Sam slept. The nurse came in with a tray of food, and smiled at him. She placed the try beside the bed, and glanced over.

"You might as well go get something to eat. After Sam has his dinner the doctor is going to give him a quick exam."

As Dean walked out the door he saw Sam's doctor coming toward the room. Sighing he motioned her to stop. As far as the doctor knew he was Sam's partner and John was Sam's father. Dean was still using false id since, technically, Dean Winchester was dead. That made it easy to pass as Sam's partner; if anyone noticed the family resemblance they ignored it. Dean leaned back against the wall taking a deep breath.

"Doctor Kaplan, I wanted to ask you about Sam. Is he in any danger from this pregnancy? He hasn't been doing as well as his father has, and John is a lot older. If Sam's health or life is at risk I don't want to take a chance."

"Well, I am a little concerned about Sam. He's in the second trimester but he still isn't gaining any weight. I want to hold judgment until we get a chance to see how the new medication works, and I want him coming in every two weeks for appointments with his father for now until we get him stabilized. I really think you're being premature at this point. Let's give it a little time."

Nodding Dean stood back.

"But if you have to make a choice, if it comes down to that. I want you to do everything to have to do to save Sammy, even if it means that you have to take the baby."

Doctor Kaplan nodded gravely.

"We'll just have to make sure that it doesn't come down to that, okay?"

Later that night Dean lay in the bed at Bobby's house. He was restless; the bed seemed too big, and too empty without Sam's lanky body in it. The quiet sounds of the house were depressing for him. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to Bobby and his Dad talking in the nursery as they hung wall paper or afterwards as they watched some documentary on TV, even as they made love before turning out the lights in their bedroom just reinforced the emptiness in the room. Finally, Dean had to admit it; he may have gotten into this relationship with Sam to protect his younger brother, but now he was caught; helplessly and desperately in love. He hoped that Sam was okay, that the baby was healthy and strong, and that they had a chance to be a family.

The next afternoon John and Bobby were in Doctor Kaplan's office. John was dressed in a hospital gown lying on an exam table. Bobby stood beside him, looking at the bank of machines and equipment lining the wall. He frowned, it seemed far too complicated to him. The doctor walked into the room smiling.

"It's good to see you here. I've been over at the hospital checking on Sam. He seems to be much better. His partner was with him when I left. You're doing well John. I'm very pleased with your progress. You have put on a little bit of extra weight. You should monitor your diet a bit better. You're not eating for two adults, okay?"

John flushed but Bobby interrupted.

"I'll make sure he watches what he eats."

Doctor Kaplan offered him a disbelieving look, and the older man straightened sputtering. She smiled at him.

Bobby looked offended.

"Hey, I will make him behave."

She actually laughed this time.

"Bobby, I'm sorry but John has you wrapped around his little finger, you'd let him get away with murder and then help him hide the body afterwards."

He flushed uncomfortably aware of the fact that, although the doctor didn't know it, he had actually helped John hide a few bodies in his time. And one of them had been human, a predator they had run across looking for a Witch that reportedly was taking kids and killing them. They hadn't found the witch but they had found an elementary school teacher with a dark past, who was molesting and murdering his students. Needless to say John went ballistic on him, but that was one body that would never be found. Bobby had made damn sure of it.

Doctor Kaplan stepped up to the table and draped a sheet over John's hips and legs. Carefully she lifted the hem of the gown and folded it up baring his belly. He blushed and she patted his arm.

"I try to keep the jelly warm but it still might be a little uncomfortable."

She picked up a tube and squirted a dollop of clear gel on his skin. John winced. Taking the probe in her left hand she flicked on one of the monitors beside the table. Then ran the probe lightly over his skin.

The image on the screen was remarkably clear and easily identifiable. Bobby was amazed that they were actually looking inside the other man. It took the doctor a few minutes to locate the baby but when she did Bobby gasped. He had been expecting some grainy black and white image clouded by static. But what he saw gripped him. The baby was lying on its back, the umbilical running along one leg. Doctor Kaplan smiled and pointed to the tiny form.

"Do you want to know the baby's gender?"

"It's a girl,' John said, and the doctor turned to him.

"Most people aren't that good at reading the image; you have a very good eye."

She glanced at Bobby then pointed with the tip of her pen.

"Here, Dad. There she is."

Cocking his head Bobby leaned forward, he bumped into John's hip and the image on the screen flickered a bit then the baby shifted and John flinched when one little leg straightened as she kicked him. The skin of his belly jumped beneath Bobby's arm, and he looked down.

"She knows Daddy is here," he breathed laying one hand over the warm skin.

John rolled his eyes.

"My God, it's so clear. I can see her face."

The baby's eyes were closed, but she wriggled a little then lifted one hand. The tiny thumb popped into her mouth and she shifted again. John watched, captivated by the tiny miracle inside him. Bobby leaned over him brushing his fingertips on the screen. John sat up a little ways taking the other man's hand in his. He wasn't even sure that Bobby knew he was crying. Doctor Kaplan stepped back.

"I'll print you a few copies of that image. She's a beautiful little girl."

Sam came home the next day. John was relieved and happy to have all his children with him again. The younger man still looked tired, but much better than he had. He was restricted to bed rest for a few days though, until the doctor was sure that the medication she had prescribed was going to work.

After a few days Sam was bored. But he was keeping down fluids and food much better. He was finally taken off bed rest and gleefully joined the others in their regular daily activities.

They were all sitting in front of the TV watching what had to be the worst horror movie in the history of film making when a car pulled into Bobby's driveway. The older man rose going to the window then flung the door open as two young women appeared on the front porch. One of the girls was tall and blond, strikingly good looking, and the other was shorter a little heavier but still what Bobby would have called "cuter than a bug's ear."

The tall girl leaned heavily on the other young woman's shoulders and John could see a rust colored stain spreading out on the front of her blue denim shirt. There was wariness about them that not one of the men could mistake. The girl's were hunters, no doubt.

The shorter girl looked from Bobby to John then cringed.

"My name is Carolyn and this is Danni, my cousin. Jim Murphy told us to come here when I called him about Danni."

"Bring her in, girl, before she falls on her face."

Dean rose quickly, intercepting them and catching the taller girl up. He carried her through the house to a small den in the back and stood waiting patiently while his father opened the sofa up into a bed. The sheets were sterile white and still smelled faintly of bleach, and Bobby quickly laid a plastic backed waterproof pad on the bed. Dean deposited the girl and the older man pulled the shirt away. Danni's chest was slashed in four places, deep gouges that ran with fresh blood once the matted cloth was pulled free.

John was at Bobby's side with a large first aid kit, and set the suturing needles and thread out. Bobby opened the pack and began cleaning the wounds out. Dean sat down on the bed beside the young woman, and the older man handed him a hypodermic needle and a small vial of clear fluid.

"Here give her some morphine. She's pretty much out of it, but it's gonna hurt like hell when I close these up."

Carolyn eased away from the bed going to stand by John. She looked up at him then finally took in the fact that he was obviously pregnant. She offered him a tight, little smile.

"How far along are you?"

He patted her shoulder.

"Six months. You're cousin is going to be fine. Bobby knows what he's doing. He's patched up me and my boys up on more than one occasion."

"That's what Jim said. I'm sorry we just barged in on you like this though, especially with you being pregnant and all."

He shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. It's what we do. What were you two hunting?"

Carolyn glanced up at him.

"Wendigo, just to the south of here. It just showed up a day or two ago. Word on the network was to leave you folks alone for now. So I'm sorry we got you involved, but I was sacred she was going to die."

Bobby didn't turn around.

"Don't be sorry you did the right thing coming here."

He worked silently and efficiently for what seemed like a long time. Just before he was finished the girl came around a little, and began struggling. Dean had to hold her down while the older man finished stitching. Finally, he put up the needle and swabbed iodine over the wound again for good measure. Then he began washing her down with clean water and bandaged her chest.

"You girls better stay here for a few days, until she gets on her feet. You're more than welcome."

"We don't want to be a bother," Carolyn said.

She looked tired and uncertain and very young to John although both women were probably a bit older than he had been when he first started hunting.

"It's no bother," Bobby said, washing his hands.

He motioned Dean over.

"Here lift her up a little while I clean up. Let's get her settled in bed."

They sat around the table while Carolyn ate the sandwich Bobby shoved at her. She looked ragged, worn down and far too gaunt for a woman her age. John supposed they all looked like that once it a while. Hunting took its toll on a person, he had felt it. He had seen it in his son's faces.

John sighed.

"I wonder how this got past us?"

Dean went to stand by the girl and his father. He glanced over at Bobby and the older man shrugged.

"I know that it's all over the network that John and Sammy both are pregnant. I think that they're keeping us out of the loop because people are afraid that they'll go on a hunt. And don't even think about going out John. I won't have it."

John frowned at his tone but nodded.

"I'm not stupid Bobby. I know that in this shape I'm not fit to hunt, and I'm not going to do anything to hurt this little girl."

Patting his belly John sighed again then turned as Sam appeared in the door behind him.

"And Sammy's not up to it either."

Carolyn rose from the table.

"I'm not asking for any help. But that thing is still out there, and I have to go back. I'm not letting it go, not now after Danni suffered so much. I'll go alone."

"No, you won't," Dean said. Holding up a hand to calm her he added, "I'm going with you."

Sam jerked as if he had been slapped in the face.

"No! Dean you can't…I don't want you to go."

"Sammy, I have too, it's what we do. I'm not letting her do this alone. That's the quickest way to get killed. We'll be okay."

Seeing that Dean had already made up his mind Sam appealed to the elder Winchester.

"Dad, you can't let him do this."

He paused noting the look on his father's face. Sam backed up.

"You've got to be kidding, Dad. You can't let Dean go. I don't want him to go."

"Sammy, we don't have a choice. You knew the kind of life your brother and I led; you knew it wasn't going to end. Dean's right, it's what we do and he can't let this girl go alone."

Sam stormed into the room.

"What about what I need, Dad? I'm going to have a baby, we need Dean too."

Bobby caught Sam by the arm and gently forced him into a chair.

"Sit down, Sam. You're not doing that baby any good. Dean knows what he's doing. If I had to go your daddy would understand."

Sam frowned and looked over at John. He thought he caught a look cross his father's features but John had always been too good at shielding his emotions. Whatever he was going to say died in this throat as Dean walked over wrapping his arms around Sam's waist.

"I'm going, it's not Dad's decision, and it's not yours. I'm going because I have to. I couldn't live with myself if somebody died because I didn't go, Sammy."

Sam pulled away. He whirled putting his hand on his belly.

"How are we supposed to live if you die, Dean? Tell me that."

"You'll live if you have to, Sam. I know what I'm doing. It'll be okay."

Carolyn watched the interplay between the men then rose. Dean turned to her.

"Just let me get my stuff together and we'll go if you're up to it."

She nodded.

"We need to get out of here. It knows we're after it, and I'm afraid it'll move on."

Sam, John and Bobby stood on the porch watching as Carolyn's Mustang pulled out of the driveway. She didn't look back, but Sam was sure that Dean did, smiling. Sam thought he might feel sick or afraid, but in the end he only felt numb.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

The Plague Pt 14

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

It was dark in the abandoned cabin that the girl led him to. Dean huddled against the side of the building, glancing sideways at the shorter figure beside him. She seemed intent on the dirt caked windows and he wondered if she had seen something that he had missed. Still Dean couldn't make out any movement inside the building, and he frowned.

The sky was lightening in the east heralding sunrise. Dean decided that if the Wendigo was inside the cabin it would make some kind of move to get back to its nest before the sun came up. They tended to travel at night. Carolyn motioned Dean forward and he followed her to the door. She was too small to kick it in, and he moved in front of her leaning back and letting one booted foot fly.

The door caromed off the wall of the old building with a resounding bang. The interior of the cabin was as dilapidated and dirty as the outside, and it was still. There was no sign that anything had disturbed the dust shrouded furniture for a long time. Just as Dean turned the butt of the girl's rifle came up and hit him in the cheek. He staggered back grateful that she was so small, until her eyes flashed amber in the dim lighting. He cursed under his breath and ducked but that was useless when she slammed him against the wall.

"You think this will do you any good, you bitch?"

She smiled, teeth flashing white against the darker shadow of her face.

"It'll do what I need it to do."

"He won't come for me. You'll never get my Dad out of the house…"

"I don't need to get him out of the house. He'll send the old man when he finds out that his precious boy is a prisoner. And he and Sammy will be alone in the house with poor little Danni. That's all I need. I don't even have to kill you. Once you get back and see what's happened to good old John and baby Sammy you'll off yourself, the old man too."

She grinned running a finger down his cheek.

"I don't even have to hurt, you…much. Just a little fun and games."

"What makes you think that Bobby would even bother coming to get me? He's got a kid to protect, now."

"Oh please, do you really think the old man would refuse to come if Johnny sends him. He's so sickeningly in love with your Daddy that he'd walk though fire to get to you, if John told him too." Laughing she slipped the buttons free on Dean's shirt, tugging the thinner material of the t-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans.

"What is it with John? Bobby is head over heels, but you…you're his son. How sick is that?"

"Shut up, bitch."

"Oh please, they don't know that Meg got into what passes for your mind, Dean-o. She saw what was floating around in there and I gotta say that's some pretty twisted shit. Are you sure you're not playing on our side of the playground?"

"Don't think that any of your psycho-babble crap will work with me, honey. I've heard it all before. Demons lie, yada, yada, yada…"

Dean grinned at her until her nails bit into the skin of his chest, skating over his ribs in deep rivulets of red. He kept his features neutral and she looked annoyed when he didn't flinch.

"Doesn't matter, you're just bait, boy."

"Not very good bait," Dean said praying that he was right, and that Bobby would do the right thing, stay and protect John and Sammy even if…he refused to finish the thought.

She cocked her head.

"Don't sell your self short, Dean. John loves you, he's proud of you. Did you know that? Proud of the man you are. Oh, he's never entertained the same fantasies that you did, but there was a time or two. When he was missing her too much, he'd look at your eyes, your smile and see someone else. You could have had him then, all you had to do was push a little more and he would have rolled over for you. Even that was better than all that lonely."

A deep shudder ran through Dean's body even though he tried to stop it, hold it back, and this time she laughed.

"So it's still there, huh? What about poor sweet Sammy? I gotta say you _really_ play the home team, buddy. Couldn't have Daddy so you settled for baby brother? And I thought my family was a bunch of sick freaks? We got nothin' on you boys. The only thing that really annoys me and mine is that you Winchesters are harder to kill than cockroaches."

Dean smirked at her.

"Yeah and meaner than a cornered rat. So just get on with it, I can't say that I'm impressed with your scintillating conversation."

Carolyn tilted her head back laughing.

"Oooh, words of more than two syllables. Hey, I'm impressed. And everybody says Sammy is the smart one."

She rifled through his pockets finally fishing his cell phone out of his jacket.

"Time to give Daddy a call. And Dean, don't fuck this up. I don't think that Daddy could take hearing his little boy's heart ripped out over the phone."

John was sitting on a chair beside the unconscious girl when his cell phone rang. He picked it up grateful that the caller id flash to Dean on the second ring. Smiling John flipped the phone open, a frown crossing his features when the girl's voice came over the line.

"Ah, John, glad I got you. Makes this a whole lot easier. I've got your boy; you've got that damn Colt. All my Daddy wants is the gun, old man. You send someone to drop it off and you get your boy back, simple as that."

John hissed, "You goddamn bitch. I want to speak to Dean."

She heaved a sigh.

"Gee, there's no need to get nasty about this, Johnny. Here, I'll have to hold the phone for him since he's pinned against the wall like a bug, but he's still alive, and intact. Get your ass in gear and get me that gun or I'll start sending pieces back."

She held the phone up to Dean and he turned his head. With a snarl she punched him once in the chest and the air whooshed out of him. He took a deep breath and glared.

"Dad don't listen to her. Don't come after me. If they want that gun so much don't give it up…"

Pulling the phone away she licked her lips.

"Well, there you have it Johnny. You get that gun to me, and I'll let you have good old Dean back. Use the GPS in his cell phone to track us; I know you're already doing it. You've got until this evening, six pm, before I start carving."

John dropped the phone onto the bed, and rose running out to the living room where Bobby sat talking to Caleb Henderson on the phone. He looked up at John's pale, washed out face and ended the call. Bobby rose pushing the other man into a chair.

"Caleb says that there's no…"

"Wedigo, yeah. The girl was a plant, maybe the other one too. I don't know she's still out cold. They have Dean."

"They who?" Sam asked walking into the room. John sighed.

"Demons…_him, _the demon. They're all working together. This Colt scares the shit out of him. I think it won't just disseminate him, send him back to hell to crawl out again. I think it kills them permanently."

Bobby nodded.

"I've heard that. It's hard as hell to actually kill a demon. The most people ever do is disembody them, consign them back to hell. And the big league ones eventually get back out. The Colt kills them deader than that proverbial doornail, gone, caput, forever. Even the undead are afraid of that."

John threw off the other man's hands.

"I don't care. We've got to give it to her. I won't let them take one of the boys; Dean went out there in good faith on my word. I can't let her have him."

"Nobody's saying you have to, Caleb's on his way. He's gonna go after Dean."

John shook his head.

"No, as much as Caleb is a hunter, he's not that good. I'm going, Bobby. I'm going after my son."

"No you're not, you're staying here with Sam and the two of you are going to lock this house down tight. We're going to bind the girl, and lock her in the room. And I'm going to paint sigils on the house. You get busy setting out the salt lines."

John jerked away from Bobby.

"You don't get it. That's my son. I have to go. You can't keep me here."

John shoved against Bobby's chest, and the older man whirled. The sound of his hand connecting with John's cheek exploded on the still air, and Sam cringed. John took a step back, hand going to his face, fingers tracing over the crimson stain spreading on his skin. He was panting, eyes wide, mouth slack with surprise.

Sam staggered. Bobby was white-faced, looking like he desperately wanted to vomit. John took a step back watching in silence as the older man went to the cabinet. He pulled out a bottle filled with fluid, the green glass making the liquid inside look brown.

"Caleb will be here in about half an hour. We've already got the GPS in Dean's phone hooked into my laptop. We know where they are. Sam come with me. We're going to tie that girl down to the bed. And wash her down with Holy Water, just to be sure."

After they had the young woman bound to the bed with cloth wrapped rope pulled taut across her chest and hips, Bobby took the flask of holy water from John and ran a line down her body and one across for good measure. She lay there silent, unmoving.

Finally, Bobby herded John and Sam into the bedroom. He went back to the living room fetching the green bottle and a fine tipped paintbrush. He flushed then motioned to the two men, "Both of you strip down, buck naked. Sorry Sam, but you too."

He waited while John stripped off his clothes, Sam hesitated and Bobby groaned.

"Oh for God's sake boy, you ain't got nothin' that I haven't seen before. John you first just so Sam doesn't get unsettled."

John stepped forward and Bobby broke the seal on the bottle. The scent of decomposing blood filled the air, and John flinched.

"Bobby, do know what this is…its black magic."

Bobby nodded.

"Sometimes you've got to fight fire with fire. This is the blood of a virgin, pure and inviolable."

Sam gasped as Bobby began painting symbols on John beginning at the center of his forehead, the third eye in Hindu custom. Bobby ran the brush quickly along John's hair line around his head and down his face, around the neck. He worked on the left side of John's body, sweeping blood down his shoulder across his palm, up the arm to the chest circling John's breasts, dipping the symbol down the line of fine hair that bisected the younger man's chest circling his belly. The symbol he drew looked like an inverted letter C with a head, and arms and legs, the perfect black-line drawing of a fetus.

Then Bobby dipped the brush again, even taking John's penis in one hand drawing a line down, circling his balls, then flushing as he slid the brush between. John stiffened as the head of the brush dipped inside but then it moved on quickly up the crease of his ass around the cheeks and down the legs. He finished the other side of John's body and told him to stand still until the symbols dried. The blood crusted on John's skin making him itch, but he knew better than to scratch it away.

Once the blood was dried Bobby dusted a thin layer of talcum powder over it. The faint rust colored lines faded against John's tanned skin. John re-dressed carefully so he didn't scrape away any of the blood. Bobby turned to Sam.

"Forgive me for any trespassing I might do, Sammy."

The younger man smiled and nodded, and Bobby began drawing the same symbols on Sam. When he had finished Bobby stood up. He dipped his finger into the blood.

"This is the blood of a virgin warrior, Bastet mother-goddess I sanctify these men, givers of life, to you. Bless them Mother; protect them and the lives they bear." He turned to John. "You are a servant of the Mother. Bathed in the blood of a virgin warrior, made whole, sacred, and pure again…an unbroken vessel. She will protect those who serve her."

Sam dressed again.

"The blood of a virgin warrior. Bobby, how did you get this?"

The older man sighed.

"A girl Caleb hunted with. She was no more than seventeen when she had her throat cut by a vengeance demon. She held the bottle to her own throat for the minutes it took her to bleed out. She knew how powerful it was, kept it for him until her dying breath, and he brought it to me. John, you and Sam are inviolable, untouchable by anything demonic. If she is possessed and she lays hands on you, it'll kill her. But one thing, when I said you were 'unbroken' I wasn't kidding. You and Sam are virgins again. So I guess Dean and I'll have to deal with that later."

"You're kidding," John said.

Bobby grinned at him.

"Nope, pure as the driven snow. The powder will keep a demon from noticing the symbols until it's too late. If you really want to get it done quickly, unbutton your shirt so it can see more of the blood lines. It'll invoke the goddess and she'll strike down anyone who tries to lay hands on you."

John and Sam stood huddled in the doorway watching as Caleb's truck disappeared down the driveway. The dust had barely settled when Sam turned on John.

"No more, Dad. I won't stand by and let you do this again. You can't keep dragging Dean into this quest of yours."

"I don't have to drag him into it Sam. Dean does what he does because he wants to; you've always thought I have way too much influence on Dean. He's his own man,"

"No he isn't, Dad. He's yours, what you made him. Dean has never said no to you, Dad."

Sam pushed John back, and the older man bristled.

"Don't do this, it won't change anything. Don't force him to choose."

Sam laughed.

"I won't, believe me, because I know who he'd choose. If you hadn't asked him to do this for me, he would have slept with you."

John huffed out his breath.

"No he wouldn't have Sam. I would have never done that. I'm your father, I couldn't. I'll admit he came to me, but he loves you now Sam. Surely you can see that. Don't let this get between you. Don't worry yourself about something that would never have happened," John said tiredly.

Sam looked at his father's worn, haggard expression and felt a shiver run up his spine. His eyes slipped closed, and Sam felt a sob break loose in his chest. Then he was sitting on the sofa cradled in his father's strong arms. And he was sure that John was sobbing silently above him.

Caleb pulled the truck over on the soft shoulder of the road. He could just make out the faint image of the cabin on the hilltop above the road. He and Bobby were going to approach on foot, keeping to the shadows and hope that the demon didn't get wind they were coming.

She was expecting the older man, hopefully didn't plan on him being able to call in back-up on short notice. Caleb pulled a crossbow out of the back seat, and slung a quiver of heavy, silver-tipped bolts over one shoulder. Bobby nodded as he picked up the Colt, then slipped a Beretta into his waistband. Then he bent over and tucked a .32 into the top of his boot. He was fairly sure that the demon would get control over him as soon as he stepped into the room, maybe Caleb could get a shot off at her before she could get the gun.

The younger man split off from Bobby far enough down the road that he wouldn't be seen from the cabin windows. Bobby walked up the road making no efforts to conceal his approach. He didn't see anyone looking out the window but that didn't mean that she didn't know he was coming. She might have even caught a whiff of Caleb, but finding the other man would be a good deal harder to do.

The door swung open when he stepped on the porch. Bobby didn't bother pausing. He stepped inside. Dean was pinned against the wall, held in invisible bonds. Bobby took two steps forward and dropped the Colt on the table maneuvering around so that the girl had to step in front of the rear window. She glanced at him, and then smiled. Bobby found himself hurled backward, slamming against the wall with bone-numbing force. He winced; his chest ached with the effort to breathe.

Carolyn drifted to the table picking up the gun in one hand.

"So this had better be the real thing. You've already tried that fake gun crap."

"That's the real thing no doubt," Bobby said and she turned on him.

Tilting her head to one side she raised the gun.

"Think it'll work on humans?"

Bobby shrugged as much as he was able.

"Hell, girl any kind of gun will work on us. It don't have to be enchanted."

"That's true," she said dismissively. "Humans are far too easy to kill."

She whirled firing the gun at Dean. The shot hit him mid-thigh and he screamed. The girl jerked around as the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Caleb leaned over the broken window and jerked the crossbow up. The bolt hit her directly in the center of her chest.

She spun around, dropping the Colt on the floor at her feet. Her eyes flashed from amber to brown and both Dean and Bobby hit the floor. Bobby rolled to his knees gasping for breath, and the girl staggered a few steps from Dean.

"Please," she said, blood welled over her lips, bubbling with every labored gasp of breath.

Dean stretched himself out then levered himself up onto his elbows, the Colt clasped between his hands. She pushed herself upright leaning heavily on the table then threw her head back giving him a clear shot at her throat. The gun jumped in Dean's hands.

A spray of blood cascaded over his face and the back of her skull blew out sending brain and bits of bone skittering across the floor. Carolyn's body jerked backward teetered on her feet for a moment then collapsed into gray ash on the floor.

Caleb's head disappeared out of the window and they could hear his footsteps clattering on the porch. Then the door swung in, and the other hunter was pulling Bobby to his feet. The older man hurried to Dean's side.

Dean rolled onto his side winching in pain, then scooted back against the wall. Bobby ripped the hem off Dean's t-shirt and pulled his pocket knife out. Carefully he cut the leg on Dean's jeans, top and bottom, inspecting the wounds. There was blood on the top and back of Dean's thigh, and Bobby nodded.

"It went straight through. We'll bind it up tight to stop the bleeding then we'll get it cleaned and dressed at the truck. It looks like you caught a break on this one, more of that Winchester luck"

Dean nodded, watching silently as the older man bound his leg. When he was finished Caleb and Bobby hoisted the younger man over their shoulders and helped him out the door.

"Well, another one bites the dust," Dean said through clenched teeth.

Bobby flinched.

"Yeah, and your daddy's gonna be pissed off at me for bringing you back with a hole in you." He offered Dean a wary grin. "That was damned stupid of all of us. We should have known better."

"Yeah," Dean said with a grimace as they eased him down into the bed of the truck. "Sam's never gonna let us hear the end of it."

Caleb unlocked the truck box, and lifted out the first aid kit handing it back to Bobby. He took out a plastic bottle of distilled water and washed Dean's leg. The wound opened a little leaking out a sluggish trickle of blood, but as soon as Bobby clamped a clean gauze pad over it the bleeding seemed to stop. He poured iodine into the wound, and Dean jerked, hissing in pain. He coated the wound with antiseptic gel. Finally, Bobby pressed clean gauze over the wounds on both sides of Dean's thigh and wrapped it in bandage.

Bobby handed Dean a couple of antibiotic tablets and a bottle of water. Then pulled out a needle and a vial of morphine. Dean frowned at the pain medication.

"I don't need that," he objected.

Bobby glanced at him.

"You don't need it now. Just wait until we get moving and you get bounced all over the road." He pulled Dean's sleeve up and shot the drug into his arm. "Here, we're gonna wrap you up in a sleeping bag and a blanket and just let you sleep it off in the back of the truck."

John and Sam were sitting in the front room, and except for a single lamp the house was dark. They hadn't said much at all, had barely moved except for the few times that John had gotten up to go check on the young woman in the back room. She had still been asleep the last time he had gone in. He slid into the chair checking his cell phone for messages, but the inbox was empty. He dared not call, in case they were in the middle of something and didn't need distractions.

Sammy was all but asleep on the sofa and John rose pulling a checkered wool blanket out of a basket by the fireplace and spread it over the younger man. Sam looked up giving his father a strained smile.

"Try to get some sleep, if you can. You just got out of the hospital," John said quietly.

"You should rest too, Dad. You're farther along than I am; I know that you're tired."

"I'm okay. I just want to hear from Bobby. Hopefully they'll call soon."

Suddenly the sound of feet scraping in the hallway caught his attention. He rose moving to the center of the room. The girl was standing in the doorway, a slight smile gracing her lips. When she cocked her head and glanced at him John could see her eyes flash gold. He didn't back up as she came into the room.

"If you don't run, I'll make this quick and easy on you," she hissed. John grunted falling back a step as if he was afraid. She leaped forward tossing the last of the rope that had bound her onto the floor. "It's no use, you can't get away. Don't make me have to hurt you more than I need too."

"I won't," John whispered.

He glimpsed confusion on her face before she stepped forward again. Then her fingers were wrapped around his arm. Suddenly the woman's body snapped back, blue lightening dancing over her skin. She shrieked. John lifted his hands, jerking at the front of his shirt. The buttons sprang free, a couple of them popping off the cloth and clattering to the floor. Sam rose also opening his shirt and she screamed.

"No, no…" her voice rose as a cold wind whipped through the room. A shadow fell on the wall, taller than both John and Sam yet distinctly female in silhouette. When the shadow shifted they could see that above the human shoulders were the tall pointed ears and graceful sloping muzzle of a cat.

The demon cringed away from the shadow but its arms stretched out catching her in long slender fingers. The girl's body erupted in a shower of dust and the black oily cloud of the demon inside was pulled into the goddess, adding to her power. When the demon was absorbed the shadowy form seemed more solid, an opaque figure standing out in sharp relief from the walls. A woman's voice quavered on the air, and John wasn't sure if she was speaking aloud or in his mind.

"I serve the daughters of Ra, you are men. How did you call me forth?"

John slipped the shirt off and the blood symbols on his skin seemed to glow with a deep crimson light. The goddess looked at John; reaching out she brushed her fingers over his belly.

"You are with child? So are you a daughter of Ra? It is a cunning half-truth made by he who did this. So be it, you will be my child, my children of Ra. When your man returns you must offer your re-grown maidenhead on my altar, and I'll forgive you this half-lie."

John bowed his head, and the shadow seemed to shrink in on itself until the wall was empty. He pushed Sam gently down on the sofa covering him with the blanket. Quickly John settled down on the sofa beside his younger son. He set his Glock on the table beside the couch and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders. They huddled together side by side pulling the blanket up. They were both asleep on the sofa when John's cell phone rang. John fumbled with the phone then flipped it open.

"Bobby, are you okay?"

Bobby's voice was low and smooth.

"Yeah, we're right outside in the driveway. I didn't want you shooting us when we came in."

"We," John whispered in a broken voice.

Bobby pushed the door open and both Sam and John turned to the doorway. Dean limped on a bandaged leg, arm slung over the older man's shoulders; Sam leaped to his feet. Dean dropped his arm off the older man and clasped Sam's waist in both his hands. He buried his face in the younger man's hair breathing in the soft, warm scent.

Bobby hurried across the room pulling John into his arms. He brushed his fingertips over the faint bruise on the younger man's cheek where he had slapped him.

"God, baby, I'm so sorry."

John buried his head in the other man's neck.

"I was wrong. I was being a jackass."

"That's doesn't give me the right to hit you."

"You brought my son home to me," John said looking over at Dean and Sam.

Dean limped over throwing one arm across John's back, hugging him and Bobby at once. Bobby patted Dean's arm.

"God when I thought you were going out there. When I thought about my little girl being in danger. John I never had a clear understanding of what you feel every time one of the boys puts his life on the line in a hunt. I would have gone insane if I had to watch my boys bleed and hurt."

Dean squeezed the older man's arm.

"We do what we do, Bobby. It keeps a lot of other people alive. And I'm not down and out yet."

Sam slid his arm under Dean's and leaned the older man against him.

"Come one let's get you in bed."

Bobby looked at John nodding toward the rear room. John took a deep breath.

"She's gone. We had a visitor. A very powerful visitor and we've got to get an altar built tomorrow. So let's all get to bed tonight."

"Uh actually, we don't have to build an altar; we can make one on the bed. I have all the stuff we need. I thought this thing out pretty well, if I do think so myself."

"Is that so," John said snidely.

Bobby grinned at him.

"Strip the beds, there are white linen sheets underneath, and I have the dried herb bundles in the closet."

He handed a box of silk wrapped dried leaves and flowers to Sam.

"Put them at the top and the bottom of the bed. John would you mind?"

John took the second box and disappeared into the room he shared with the other man. Bobby pulled Dean close looking for all the world like a man giving his son 'the talk' on his wedding night.

"I didn't want to say anything to John and Sam, but this ain't gonna be easy. When you break Sam open, metaphorically speaking, it's gonna hurt, more than it did the first time he lost his virginity. It's the price Bastet demands for her protection. Just do it fast, and don't wimp out. Sam has to bleed."

Dean didn't look physically up to the task, but he offered Bobby a weary nod. Sam had the bed stripped and the bundles in place when he closed the bedroom door. Dean limped to the bed, settled down and toed off the sneakers he was wearing. Sam stripped off his clothes and Dean looked at the symbols painted on his brother's skin. He recognized some of them as invocation symbols, some as protection symbols and some he didn't recognize at all. It was Bobby's handiwork though and he flinched when Sam was completely naked and he saw exactly how extensive the drawings were. Dean was sure that his father was probably covered in the same symbols.

Dean undressed a little more slowly, but the painkiller Bobby had given him in the truck was still working fine, so he eased back on the bed. Sam leaned in kissing him on the shoulder then in the hollow of his throat. Dean caught Sam's head, drawing him up for a kiss. Their lips slid together, and Dean closed his eyes.

Sam kissed his way down Dean's chest licking the inside of his navel and grinning when his brother flinched.

"Sammy, "Dean hissed in warning, but Sam just glanced up.

"You're a little banged up to do anything about it, consider it payback."

Dean slid down until he was laying flat on his back. Sam grinned straddling the older man's hips. Dean licked his lips grinning up at his younger brother, then winced a little when Sam settled too heavily on his leg. Sam jerked upright.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this tonight. If it's going to hurt you," he said hesitantly.

Dean just shook his head.

"Believe me I won't feel the pain. Come on…" he said reaching out to grasp Sam's hips in his hands.

Dean's large, warm palms rubbed over the thin skin at Sam's hip bones then squeezed against his thighs. Sliding his hands upwards Dean caught Sam at the waist and guided him down onto Dean's cock. Sam's face twisted in pain as Dean breached him. He tried to pull up and away, but the older man held him firm.

"Bobby said it would hurt. It's the price that you have to pay for the goddess' protection."

Sam nodded then took a deep breath. He pushed down and Dean broke his hymen and slid inside. Sam winced, feeling a thin tickle of warm fluid dripping down his leg. But then Dean pulled up on his hands, drawing Sam upward thrusting up and in, and Sam's eyes dropped closed as pleasure surged through him.

John lay back on the bed watching as Bobby slowly undressed. He could tell that the older man was still shaken, running on adrenaline and guilt. When Bobby slid into the bed beside him John stroked his arm, running his fingertips lightly over the soft hair blurring the taut muscle beneath. John shifted back pulling the other man over and on top of him. Bobby looked down at the smooth curve of John's belly, tracing his finger over the line drawing that was half rubbed away. He let his hand follow the line resting his palm against the smooth warm skin. The baby shifted, rolling beneath his touch and once again Bobby was struck dumb by awe. By the tiny life he had helped create.

He leaned over kissing John first on the bruised cheek, then the lips and John opened for him. He dove inside like a drowning man coming up for air the last time. He let his lips linger first at John's breast then his navel, worshiping the tiny bulge with his tongue. The he moved lower. John gasped when the older man's tongue slid inside him, spreading his legs wider so that Bobby would have more access. He was almost at the point of no return when Bobby lifted himself up onto his knees and elbows pushing his hips forward.

John cried out when the pain came, but Bobby was there soothing him with whispered words, and then John's good orgasm washed over him and he pulled Bobby into his arms.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

The Plague Pt 15

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta on the story.

It was an Indian summer, still hot in mid-September. And today was promising to be as hot and humid as it ever got. The sky was pale cornflower blue without a speck of cloud to be seen. Dean groaned as he slid the creeper under the Impala. He was using the down time to do some maintenance on the Impala and was just finishing up on the brakes. A pair of sneakers appeared by the car, and Dean squinted at them trying to discern if it was Sam or his father. Sam's voice carried to him from 'outside' vaguely quivering from the slight echo of the undercarriage.

"I brought you a beer," was all that Dean really heard. It was enough. He pushed the creeper out and leaned up on his elbows blinking as the bright sunlight hit him squarely in the face. Sam shifted so that his shadow fell across the other man's face, and Dean grinned at him. Sam was rounder now, at six months he was finally noticeably pregnant.

"Dad says lunch is almost done. You might as well get washed up now."

Dean took a long pull at the beer bottle and sighed as the cold liquid hit his dry throat. He stood up wrapping an arm around Sam's waist as they walked back to the house. Dean's leg was healed now, two months later, but he still walked with a slight limp. He shrugged it off as just one more of many battle scars they all bore.

The house was shut up tight against the heat, curtains drawn and the air conditioning working full blast. Still it did nothing to combat the moisture in the air, and John looked truly miserable as he sat on a chair beside the stove, waiting for bread to be done. In the past few weeks he had been working on his cooking skills since he was bored out of mind at the forced limitations on his movement. He was actually a passable cook now, and Dean grinned. Something about the ripeness of John's rounder outline hit him in a deeply visceral way. Dean often found himself laying his hand on John's belly watching as the little girl inside kicked and wriggled. At times, the actual imprint of a tiny hand or foot could be seen on the surface of the skin if he managed to talk his Dad into lifting his shirt.

At his last doctor's appointment John and Bobby had found out that the baby had turned and was head down now. Bobby knew that meant that she was moving into birthing position. He was anxious and a little nervous although John seemed invigorated by the news. He was beginning to get into that phrase of just wanting the baby to be born. Still Dr. Kaplan had told them not to expect the new addition to the family any sooner than November.

Having been forced into staying in one place longer than a few months John and the boys had made friends. Mostly people that were acquaintances of Bobby's but other people that they had met in town as well. As a result they were participating in normal family activities that they had foregone for so many years. At first it had been difficult, especially for John. It was hard for him to give up his normal almost paranoid distrust of others, but they were going to be living in this town for a long time.

So tonight the entire clan was going to Lawrence High School to watch a football game because Doctor Kaplan's nephew played for the team. John and Dean had always loved football, and Bobby had developed a sort of appreciation for the game, but Sam hated it. Still it was the kind of thing that he had so desperately wanted as a teenager so he gave in, content to do 'normal' things as a family.

Even though it was seven o'clock in the evening it was still hot and humid. Bobby and Dean were carrying an arm load of blankets, seat-cushions, a cooler and anything else that John had decided was absolutely vital to the outing. Dean sighed; his Dad planned a family trip with the same paranoid precision that he planned a hunt. But he was damned if he was going to complain. If anyone even looked at John sideways Bobby got his back up.

Gloria Kaplan and her husband Mike were seated in the front row bleachers at mid-field. She had fended off various interlopers and kept half the bench for John, Sam and the rest. It kind of irked Dean that he and Bobby were 'the rest' considering they were doing most of the hauling but she was Sam and John's doctor so naturally she felt more affinity for them.

Dean knew that Doctor Kaplan was forty-two, and since she had never mentioned having any children and was still alive it was reasonable to assume that she was unable to have children. But Dean noticed that Mike was pregnant, about as far along as his Dad if he was any judge. Then he wondered who the baby's father was. The answer to the question became pretty evident when Doctor Kaplan's brother arrived with his two little girls. Just the way he looked at Mike, even if he didn't touch the other man, made Dean pretty certain that the baby Mike was carrying was his.

He sat back wondering if there was going to be some kind of a scene, and secretly hoping for one. This was much more interesting than the game, but both the Kaplans greeting her brother warmly and so Dean decided that if her brother was the baby's father it was by mutual agreement. That sort of disappointed him. He was hoping for a good old fashioned Jerry Springer knock-down drag-out name-calling bitch fight. He sighed.

The game was predictable, but not bad, even Sam got into rooting for the home team. Bobby and John seemed to enjoy the game tremendously until a few minutes into the final quarter when John flinched rubbing his side just beneath he curve of his belly.

Bobby glanced over at him.

"John you okay?"

"Yeah, just a twinge." John smiled flinching again. Bobby straightened up.

"Uh, doc, I don't want to bother you, but John's hurting."

Doctor Kaplan handed her soda to her husband, and knelt down on the ground in front of John. She asked him a few questions then smiled. Turning to Bobby she patted his arm.

"It's just Braxton-Hicks, false labor pains. John mentioned it last week. It's perfectly normal, and he will probably experience them quite often as he gets closer to his due date. But I gave him a thorough exam last week, and he's not ready yet. I'm sticking by November 12th."

John sighed.

"Are you sure?" he asked and was horrified at the whine that crept into his voice. Blushing he gave her an awkward one-armed hug. "So when is Mike due?"

She turned beaming at her husband.

"On Thanksgiving actually. We're doing a C-section. He broke his hip skiing a couple of years ago and we thought it was best."

Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but some semblance of politeness and his father's stern glare made his mouth snap shut. Not oblivious to the interplay between the two men Doctor Kaplan nodded at her brother.

"Tom provided the semen for the artificial insemination."

Dean and John both looked surprised, not used to such forthrightness. She laughed.

"It's a whole new world reproductively speaking. I find it very exciting and invigorating. I got into obstetrics because I couldn't have a child myself. And now I'm treating an entire group of people who were never meant to give birth. I'm actually doing a paper on the new wave of male mothers. I wanted to ask you if I could include you and Sam as case studies, anonymously of course." She glanced as one of the other fans in the audience shushed her loudly. Patting John's thigh she stood up.

"Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Sure," he said with a tight smile.

He was learning slowly to unwind around other people. And it wouldn't hurt for him and Sam to let her use their information. No one would know it was them.

The next morning Bobby was re-arranging furniture in the nursery again. He was grumbling under his breath. It was the sixth time John had had him put things up then take them down again. Now he uttered a deep resounding groan and rubbed his back. He was just considering that maybe he was bit too old for fatherhood. He reached out and stoked the soft white lamb sitting on the end of the crib, and folded back the pink blankets for the hundredth time. He smiled.

Picking up the stuffed toy he settled down in the rocking chair and looked at the room. It was softly lit, the deep red cherry wood crib and changing table in one corner, and across the room a tall dresser and the rocking chair. He leaned back letting the smooth glide of the chair calm him. The closer they got to the due date, the more he felt overwhelmed. He supposed all new parents felt that way. John at least had prior experience to draw on, but Bobby felt like he was floundering.

John stood in the doorway clad in his flannel pajama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt. Still his protruding belly was extremely obvious. He grinned at the older man and Bobby patted his thigh. John sighed, and moved to sit on his leg. After a few seconds Bobby pushed him up again.

"Yeah, I didn't think that would work. You forget how heavy I am now."

"Just for a little longer John-boy. I don't care what the doctor thinks. I say you're ready to pop."

Shrugging John leaned back against the changing table. He rubbed his stomach.

"I don't know, she doesn't show any signs of budging yet. I'd have to stick with the doc on this one."

By the time that Halloween rolled around Bobby was considerably more agitated. John was eleven days from his due date and everyone in the house was more than anxious. Sam was seven and half months pregnant now, and he was hugely rounded. He and John both were going to the doctor weekly. Sam was going because he had been having unusually hard Braxton-Hick contractions and John simply because he was so close to his due date.

John lay on the exam table lower half covered in a crisp white sheet. Doctor Kaplan was seated on a rolling stool at the foot of the table and Bobby was standing beside the head of the table, back to the doctor. Something about watching the doctor touch John there made him a little queasy. She put the instruments on the tray.

"Well, I know that you both are really eager but I don't see any effacement. John is not ready for delivery. Let's watch for a little while longer, you're not actually due for another twelve days. And remember with a first baby there is certainly more than a chance that you'll be a little late."

John groaned.

"Late, but I want it over. I love this kid but I want it out of me."

She smiled patting him on the arm.

"Well, not today. I won't even consider inducing until after your due date. If you still haven't delivered by Thanksgiving well try induction."

"Thanksgiving, that's two weeks past due," John grumbled.

Bobby helped him sit up. He turned a worried gaze on the doctor.

"Is there anything wrong with the baby? She moves around a lot, so why isn't she ready to come out?"

"The baby is fine, and John is fine. There's nothing to worry about. These things just take time. John might not have been as far along to begin with as we thought, sometimes this just happens. His blood pressure is fine. Weight is good. Just be patient."

Sam and Dean were in the waiting room when John and Bobby got out of the doctor's office. John looked at his younger son, and Sam smiled at him.

"So Dad, anything yet?"

Bobby shook his head.

"Nope no baby yet. We just have to wait it out."

"What about you Sammy?"

"Well, I'm seven and half months along, but the doctor said that everything was looking good. I told her about the false labor pains. She said that was pretty common. I know that you've had them, Dad."

John followed the others out the door.

"When we get back to the house I'm going to jump off the porch a couple of times and see if I can't shake her loose."

Bobby looked at him sideways. John just smiled.

The morning of the eleventh of November dawned bright and clear. John was standing on the front porch with a coffee mug cradled in his palms. Even this late in the year fall was just beginning to settle in. John hoped that meant a mild winter, he had never been fond of snow. He leaned heavily against the porch rail. For the first time in twenty-three years November second had come and passed without him spiraling down into depression. Bobby had been keeping a watchful eye on him, John knew. But somehow the approaching arrival of his little girl had smoothed things over. It wasn't that he didn't think about Mary any more. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't remember some little thing that she had said or done. His entire pregnancy had brought up a multitude of memories of Mary pregnant with Dean and Sam. But the memories weren't as bitter as they had been, he was remembering the countless good times, and fought hard to keep his final image of her out of his thoughts.

Two weeks passed, and still no baby. John was pissed off now. He was working on forty-one weeks of pregnancy and he had had enough. He stormed into the kitchen and pushed Bobby back in the chair.

"I don't know what's going on here, but you put this thing in you get it out."

Bobby grimaced patting John's belly.

"I don't know how to do that, baby."

"Oh for god's sake I'm fifty-three years old, stop calling me baby."

"Okay John, why don't you just settle down right now or I might have to take you over my knee."

"Ha, empty threat, Singer. As fat as I am I'd just roll right off anyway," John said with a sigh.

Bobby grinned at him.

"And bounce when you hit the floor."

"Oh, great, mocking me when I'm in such a delicate condition."

Bobby grunted.

"You're about as delicate as a Mac truck Johnny. Sit down I'll make you some breakfast."

John sat wincing a little and rubbing at his belly. Bobby noticed the gesture and turned from pulling a pan out of the cabinet.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just those damned false labor pains. I've been getting them most of the night, here and there. Nothing is happening really regularly."

"Well, maybe you'd better take it easy today, all the same. It's at the point to where she can come any time."

Sam and Dean came into the kitchen and John frowned at them. The boys had informed Bobby and John that they were looking into getting an apartment in town. Sam was thinking about re-enrolling in law school after the baby was settled and Dean was working, despite Bobby's assurances, at a garage in town. John hadn't been happy about the idea of the boys living separately while Sam was pregnant. They had finally compromised; the two younger men would stay until the baby arrived then they were planning on moving out.

Sam looked a little tired, and he shuffled to the table and sat down. Dean poured Sam a cup of coffee and brought it back to him.

"Here you, go. It's still fresh too, smells great."

Sam accepted the cup then sipped at the dark liquid. He breathed in deeply and frowned when a sharp twinge of pain gripped his belly. John looked at his younger son, but Sam didn't react.

"You okay, Sammy," he asked.

Sam nodded.

"Yeah, the same as you those damn Braxton-Hicks contractions. Mine are getting a little worse what about you Dad?"

"No, I'm fine."

Bobby sat down beside John putting a plate in front of the other man. He began eating his own breakfast then motioned at John with the fork.

"I've got to go into Lawrence and pick up some supplies from Grant," he said.

John nodded remembering that Grant Hill was the silversmith who routinely provided silver ammo to hunters. John hadn't heard of any werewolves in the area, but silver worked on a number of other unnatural creatures as well.

"Dean will be here with you and Sammy. We're not leaving you alone again."

"Yeah," Dean added. "I'm just going to be working on the Impala a little more. A little body work, but if you two need me I'll be right outside."

Sam and John were in the living room watching TV when John noticed that Sam was sitting upright, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Sammy, are you ok?"

John's back was aching and he hadn't been paying as close attention as he should have. He rose quickly and was almost bent double by the searing pain the lanced through his abdomen. He grunted eyes closed. John hurried to the kitchen and brought Sam back a glass of water and his medication.

"Here take this, maybe you'll feel better."

Sam nodded, but as soon as John leaned down with the glass Sam cringed in pain again.

He swallowed the pills and motioned John back into his chair. "You'd better sit down Dad, you look like you're not doing so well either. I'll be okay."

Sam bit his lip and watched as his father shuffled around the room, idly picking things up, re-arranging them, or cleaning at invisible spots on the furniture. His pacing was making Sam nervous, and his stomach clenched in agony again. Sam was frantic, he was still five weeks from his due date and although the doctor had told him the baby was fully formed it was still small. But after an hour of clandestinely timing the pains he had to concede that he was in labor.

John paused in his ceaseless wandering the lean against the wall taking a deep breath. His back was burning with searing pain, and he felt tears forming in his eyes. He was trying desperately to keep calm because he was fairly sure that Sam was in labor and he did not want to upset the younger man. Finally, Sam groaned and stood up unsteadily making his way to where John stood.

"Dad, you've got to go get Dean. I think I need to get to the hospital. I'm in labor."

John nodded tugging Sam back to the sofa.

"Sit down. I'll go get him. We'll be right back."

John disappeared out the door, but had to stop and rest against the porch rail as another pain lanced across his back. He panted putting his hands against the small of his back and pushing. He straightened up and felt much better. Sighing in relief he stepped off the porch and went to the car parked in the driveway.

Dean was under the Impala, and looked at the shoes that appeared beside the car. He recognized them as belonging to his father and pushed out from under the car.

"Dad?" he asked. "What's wrong you look a little pale?"

"My back hurts, but you need to come in. I think Sam is in labor."

Dean hurriedly stood, reaching out to steady his father when John staggered back.

"It's too early. He still has five weeks to go. The baby's too small."

"Dean, let's just get him to the hospital. They can probably give him something to stop the contractions."

Nodding Dean hurried across the yard. John followed and had to stop again on the step panting as the burning pain in his back made him cringe. Sam was pacing in the living room panting. He reached for Dean immediately.

"Oh god, it hurts. Please Dean we've got to get to the hospital. I called Doctor Kaplan and she's meeting us there."

"Wait," John said as the two younger men headed out the door. "You need to take Sam's bag, just in case. I'll get it out of the bedroom.

He hurried back to the rear room and picked up the small bag. His back burned with a dull fury, and he stopped once on his way back to the living room. Then he paused in the opened doorway when Sam let out a gasp of agony. Dean flinched hurrying to his side.

John held the suitcase out then groaned himself. Dean and Sam both whirled.

John was standing bent over at the waist in the doorway panting. Sam grunted in pain seizing Dean's arm.

"Oh, God! Dean let's go…"

John groaned again and Dean flinched when he looked up, face pale.

"Dean…"

"Oh hell no, Dad…please don't do this." Dean looked from his father to his brother, "Oh shit."

Sam grunted. "Dean now, I can't wait."

Suddenly John doubled over, and then winced as a puddle of water formed at his feet. He blinked.

"Dean, I think my water just broke."

"Holy crap, Dad, nooo," Dean froze.

Suddenly he grabbed Sam by the hand and tugged him along to where their father stood.

"Dad, you and Sammy both get in the damned car right now. I am not doing this. Let's just go to the hospital."

Dean pulled Sam across the room, John followed close behind. When they got to the Impala Dean surveyed both his brother and his father. Sam was panting, white-faced and moaning. But John was bent over, pale and shaking. He took Sam around to the passenger side seat in the front opening the door. "Sammy, you sit down here. I think that Dad needs to be in the back. His water broke and yours hasn't."

"I don't care just get us to the hospital."

After Sam was belted in Dean closed the door then ran around and pushed John into the rear seat. "Dad, if it gets too bad lay down, okay. I'll call Bobby when we get there."

Sam was panting, gripping the seat in white-knuckled hands.

"Hurry, Dean."

Dean started the car, and pulled onto the road toward Durham. John struggled upright in the back seat.

"Dean, you may have to pull over. I need to push…"

Dean winced.

"Oh no you don't. Not in the car, Dad. Please not in the car."

Dean hit the gas and the car jumped forward. He could hear his father shuffling around in the back seat gasping and cursing, not too quietly. Sam had a death-grip on the seatbelt and was groaning and squirming around. Dean's face was covered in a fine layer of sweat and he had the steering wheel gripped tightly. Trying vainly to remember some of the childbirth classes that he and Sam had been taking Dean grasped for anything that would relax the two other men. When Sam uttered a short, sharp bark of pain and drew his legs up onto the seat, John struggled to raise his head over the seatback. John's face twisted in pain, and he cursed again.

Dean began panting in unison with Sam and his father but stopped when he got dizzy and was afraid that he would wreck the car.

"Its okay, Sam…Dad… uh, just breathe."

He puffed out a breath then began panting.

"You know breath…hu...hu… like the chick said in the class."

"Oh shut up," Sam and John said in unison.

Dean flinched.

John disappeared beneath the level of the seat and Dean could head the rustling of clothing.

"Dad, dad…don't jump the gun here, dude."

"Shut up and drive," John snapped.

Suddenly the rear window of the Impala was painted with blue and red lights. A siren cut the air. Dean's mouth gaped opened.

"I cannot fucking believe this."

He eased the car over onto the shoulder of the road and waited while a big, red-faced deputy sheriff hiked up the shoulder and leaned against the side of the Impala. Dean flinched as the deputy knocked on the glass. He looked in catching sight of Sam's sweaty, pain racked face. Then he looked down eyes widening at the sight of the younger man's swollen belly.

A noise from the back seat caused the deputy to bend down. He stared at the older man in the back, half-undressed and moaning clutching his swollen belly. With an awed expression he flicked his glance back to Dean.

"Damn, boy…you been busy."

Dean sputtered.

"He's my father…"

The deputy looked at John then at Dean again.

"Father? We don't take to that kind of thing around here."

"No, I'm not…I'm just taking him with us. They went to labor at the same time. My Dad's partner is meeting us at the hospital."

John uttered a string of curses then kicked at the door.

"Dean you've got to catch."

The deputy jumped then quickly opened the rear door before Dean could get out of the car. He looked at John then bent down.

"I can see the head, it's almost out. Hold on to the side of the seat, but don't push until the head gets out."

John shifted grasping the seat in one hand, and pulled himself into a seated position. He grunted taking a deep breath then uttered a short, harsh shout. The deputy dropped onto one knee pushing John's legs apart.

"Okay, the head's out let me turn the shoulder. Hold on this might hurt…"

"You think it doesn't hurt now?" John asked sarcastically.

He screwed up his face and took another breath bearing down for all he was worth. The deputy reached out, and then the sound of thin wails filled the car. With a grin the deputy leaned inside the car, gently placing the baby on John's chest.

"Got a good hold on her?" he asked softly. John lay back nodding weakly. "I better give you an escort to the hospital. How's the other one holding up?"

Dean looked at Sam. The younger man was still red-faced and sweaty, but he had a dreamy expression on his face. He had turned around as much as possible to see his father and newborn sister in the backseat. John looked drawn, exhausted but blissfully happy as well.

The deputy gently pulled John further up onto the seat and closed the car door. He walked back to his patrol car, and motioned Dean to follow him. With the lights and sirens running the patrol car pulled out into the road.

Bobby was at the door to the emergency room when the Impala pulled in. He stood back as Dean rushed around and got Sam out of the front seat, a nurses' assistant was waiting with a wheel-chair and she helped Dean get Sam settled.

A pair of emts pulled a gurney out and helped the deputy get John and the baby out of the back. Bobby rushed to their side beaming down at his exhausted partner and the tiny little girl cradled on his chest. John had delivered the placenta and all the doctor actually had to do was cut the cord and clean John up.

They got John settled in the delivery room on a bed and the nurse took the baby to be cleaned and weighed. A few minutes later she handed Bobby a pink bundle and he got to look at his daughter's face for the first time. He stared down at her, tiny and pink with an amazing thatch of thick, brown hair. Bobby could already tell she was going to look like John. He grinned, maybe it was her chin or the straight line of her tiny mouth but she as going to be as stubborn as he was too. He sighed, already outnumbered.

Bobby concentrated on the little girl in his arms, not wanting to look at the nurses undressing John and getting him into a hospital gown, or cleaning him up. He had ran past the Impala and seen the blood on the back seat and it scared the hell out of him. But John looked tired, not deathly ill so Bobby began to relax a little. When the nurses were done one of them waved him over, and Bobby took the baby to the other man.

Bobby leaned down on one side of the bed carefully placing the baby on John's chest. John watched as he mapped the contours of her face, Bobby's big, blunt fingers moving with a delicacy that was so unfamiliar.

"She's wonderful John, just beautiful."

"Yeah," John whispered, "How did the two of us make something so pretty?"

Doctor Kaplan came into Sam's room pulling a stethoscope from around her neck. She listen to Sam's heart then to the baby in his belly. With a frown she motioned Dean to the side.

"I need to do an exam on him, do you want to stay or would be you be more comfortable waiting outside."

Dean glanced at the younger man on the bed. They had given Sam some Demerol so he was handling the pain a bit better, but Dean could see the fear in his eyes,

"I'll stay, but I'll just be up here," Dean said with a smile.

He turned his back to the foot of the bed, while Doctor Kaplan did her examination.

When he turned around she was frowning. She leaned in and checked the monitor around Sam's belly, then looked at his vital signs.

"Well, Sam is having contractions and they are four minutes apart, the problem is his cervix is not thinned properly. I think that a this point we know that the baby is coming today, and I think by c-section."

Sam looked up.

"No, I really want to try and deliver naturally."

He turned pleading eyes on Dean, but the older man just shrugged. Doctor Kaplan motioned Dean over to her side.

"I'm sorry, but that's just not going to be possible. Sam's body just isn't ready for the birth. I've been giving him Terbutaline in his IV to try and stop the contractions but it isn't working. The baby is beginning to show signs of being distressed, a slight rise in heart rate, not much but enough that I am concerned."

Dean nodded.

"Then let's do the surgery now. I don't want to let this go on."

He sat down on the side of the bed.

"Sammy, Doctor Kaplan says we're going to have the baby today, but we've got to go with the c-section. The baby is a having a little trouble."

"There's something wrong with the baby?" Sam asked struggling to sit up.

Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, and gently pushed him back down on the bed. Sam nodded sleepily.

"Then let's do the c-section, now before something happens."

Doctor Kaplan nodded, "I'm going to have the anesthesiologist come in a give you an epidural. Then we'll get you down to surgery."

The room seemed too bright to Dean, He stood beside the operating table watching as Sam was draped and scrubbed. He was nervous, sweating heavily and felt ridiculous in the green surgical scrubs with his hair tucked under a cap. But Sam was watching him through the hustle, and Dean moved to stand at his shoulders taking Sam's hand in his. Sam smiled at him.

"You don't have to be here if you don't want to. You can wait outside."

Dean shrugged.

"Naw, are you kidding. This'll be a piece of cake, and I want to be here."

In the end though he couldn't watch the operation. In all the years he had spent tracking and killing things, all the blood he had seen was nothing compared to seeing Sam white-face and cut open. But he and Sam both gaped when Doctor Kaplan held a slimy red-faced angry baby up above the screen and handed him to Dean.

"Here, Daddy do you want to cut the cord?"

Dean placed the baby on Sam's chest then took the cord and the scissors. The doctor clamped the cord and Dean cut the cord. He felt lighter as if some heavy weight had been lifted off of him. And as they sutured the incision Dean and Sam marveled over their newborn son.

Two months later Sam and Dean, John and Bobby sat in the front row pew of the Blue Earth Community Church in Blue Earth, Minnesota. Jim Murphy was standing behind the altar in full robes. He smiled at the congregation then motioned the four men forward. John rose waiting for Bobby to carefully take their daughter out of her carrier.

Dean was doing the same and he and Sam moved to the podium. At first John had been a little reluctant when Bobby had broached the subject of baptism but Mary had had both Dean and Sam baptized so he gave in pretty quickly. Sam and Dean had decided to follow their father and stepfather's example so Bobby had phoned Jim Murphy and made the arrangements. It was cold in Minnesota and John had bitched the entire way about snow and ice and pneumonia.

Now standing in the warm, golden glow of the lamps and candles looking at Jim's bright smiling face John was glad he came. Bobby was all but bursting with pride every time he lifted the blanket back and showed the baby to yet another cheerful passerby. John was slightly miffed that Bobby was taking all the credit, letting everyone know he was the Daddy. John had done all the hard work. But he was also relieved, Bobby would not let anything including a yellow-eyed demon hurt that little girl. He would protect her even if John had to leave and take up the hunt again.

He looked over at the boys, his boys and his grandson. He had a job to do and he didn't want Sam and Dean involved in it. The babies were two months old that meant he had four months to do what he had to do. He just hoped that Bobby could forgive him.

John sighed, smiling at Bobby above the baby's head. Jim was leading the prayer then he turned to the older men.

"Today I have the joy to present to you my good friends Bobby and John Singer. They have come here today to dedicate their daughter. Bobby…"

Jim reached out and Bobby handed him the baby. "Look at this beautiful little girl. John and Bobby what name have given your daughter?"

Bobby smiled as he said, "Elizabeth Marie…"

Jim held the baby up.

"Friends I present to you your sister in Christ, Elizabeth Marie Singer."

There was polite applause while Jim handed her back to her ecstatic father. He turned to Dean and Sam.

"Also I want to present my friends Dean and Sam Winchester."

Jim smiled he had hedged a bit on who Sam and Dean were, the common story was that John was Dean's father especially since some people remembered seeing John and Dean come to Jim's place before, and recalled them being introduced as father and son. Sam had been at Stanford at that point so fewer people had met him.

Once again Jim held the baby aloft.

"Sam and Dean have come to dedicate their son. Dean what name have you given you son?"

Dean cleared his throat.

"David John Winchester."

Later that night they all sat around Jim's living room talking. Jim was virtually beaming.

"John, I can't believe it. The first time I met you, Sammy was only a little older than these little ones. My time sure passes so quickly. And back then if anyone had told me that you, John, would give birth to a darling little girl I would have called them crazy."

John smiled.

"The person I was back then wouldn't have. If I had gotten pregnant back then I would have gotten rid of it. "

Jim blanched and John took in his shocked face.

"I was mad at the world back then, Jim. Mary had only been dead a few weeks. I was not fit to be a parent, not really. I got into all this without really considering what it would do to the boys."

Dean grunted.

"We did okay, Dad. It's a different world now."

One of the babies started whimpering and John turned. Jim was amazed that they all could tell the difference between the two infants' voices. Sam and Dean always knew when David was crying and John and Bobby could always tell if it was Elizabeth. John stood quickly and went to the baby carrier. He lifted the baby out and settled down at the table in his chair. She snuffled, then rooted around on his chest for a few minutes and began wailing loudly. John grinned.

"Okay its coming. Pushy little thing."

Without thinking twice John lifted the hem of his shirt and raised the baby to his breast. Jim blushed turning away and Bobby rose picking up a light blanket and draping it over John's shoulder. John flushed.

"Sorry, Jim. I didn't think. I almost got us tossed out of a restaurant for doing the same thing. I don't get it. How can people be offended by watching me feed Beth?"

Jim blushed again. "I think it's the method of distribution…"

Bobby snorted with laughter.

"Method of distribution, that's a hoot preacher."

"You know, Mr. Singer, I've been putting in a good word for you with the Boss," Jim said pointing toward the ceiling. "You better watch who you mock around here."

John watched as the Impala pulled out of the driveway. Bobby was pacing with Elizabeth over one shoulder. She was nodding off and John smiled as she jerked her head up looking for mommy. Bobby carried her back to the nursery and laid her in the crib covering her with a blanket. He clicked off the light and turned on the monitor. He could hear John rustling through the closet in their bedroom on the other end.

He pulled the door half-way closed then walked into the room. John was half in and half out of the closet door searching for something on the floor. His back blocked the door so Bobby couldn't see what he was doing. John jumped a little when he heard Bobby come in. Quickly he stood up dropping a long, wooden box into his black duffle bag, and shoving it into the corner. Closing the closet door he walked back to the bed and watched as Bobby finished undressing.

"Looking for something, Johnny?"

"Huh, oh no. Just sorting some stuff out."

John pulled his shirt off tossing it in the corner. He stripped off his jeans and boxers then crawled across the bed. Bobby grinned as John bit his neck and reached around pulling John into his arms. John had been working hard to get back into shape, training almost fanatically but Bobby was gratified by the results. John wasn't quite down to his pre-pregnancy body but he was getting there. Bobby ran a hand up John's leg sliding his fingers between the younger man's thighs. John grunted when Bobby rubbed his hardening cock then pushed a finger inside John.

Leaning back John spread his legs giving the other man more room to work. Bobby worked the finger gently in and out; until John gasped squeezing his legs shut. Bobby could feel John's body contracting around his finger. Pulling his hand away he pushed John down on the bed, and rummaged through the drawer for a condom. In a few minutes he was sliding inside.

This was the first time they had made love since the baby had been born and Bobby took his time savoring the feel of John's body clenching around him. He kissed John murmured to him how much he loved John. Finally, when Bobby felt John tensing under him he gently squeezed John's cock in his hand, riding the other man's orgasm into his own.

After Bobby was asleep John slipped out of the bed. He hurried to the closet, pulling the door closed behind him before tuning on the light. The duffle bag he had carried was on the floor in the corner and John slid it closer with his foot. Inside the bag was some clothes, his prayer book, a rosary and the wooden box containing the Colt. He dropped the Glock he had gotten out of the weapons box in his truck into the bag with a few extra clips, silver ammo he had taken from the supply Bobby had gotten the day Beth had been born.

He leaned back against the wall then slid to the floor. His breasts ached and he knew that his little girl would be waking soon for her midnight feeding. Already the front of his shirt was wet, and he fisted the straps on the duffle bag. If he left tonight he wondered if Bobby could get her to take a bottle. Closing his eyes John let his fingers drift over the rounded curve of his breast, the wet spot forming on his t-shit and down to the still slightly rounded curve of his belly where he had a little ways to go losing weight. Could he leave tonight?

Tears wet his face as John stood and walked out of the closet door. He looked at the vague shape of the man who had just made love to him still huddled under the blankets in their bed. Turning John walked out of the room and into the hall. The baby shuffled then uttered a tiny squeal as soon as he turned on the lamp.

John scooped the wriggling bundle up clasping her to his chest then settled in the rocking chair. Elizabeth's mouth was warm on his bare skin, and the contented little grunts she made as she nursed made John feel like an ass for even considering leaving.

After he fed and changed the baby John walked back into the bedroom. Bobby was laying on the bed watching him cross the room, and slid back into the warmth of the blankets.

"Everything okay, Johnny?"

John smiled at him rolling over and laying his head on Bobby's broad chest.

"Yeah, she's fine. I'm fine."

When John glanced up at the other man he could see Bobby staring at the closet door, and he was sure the other man knew. He flinched guiltily then stroked Bobby's stomach.

"There's some stuff in there that I want to put up in the attic tomorrow."

"I'll put it up there for you."

John shook his head, "No, I'll do it. I won't need it."

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

The Plague Pt 16

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairings: Sam/Dean, and John/Bobby

Rating: FRAO

Warnings: AU, M-Preg (Sam, John). Hermaphrodite characters (Sam/John) Graphic Sex, het and slash, Wincest (Sam/Dean)

***Extra Warning***Character Deaths this part, but it's not a bad thing. Really. Give it a chance.

Summary: In this world about 25% of all males are born hermaphrodites, although they function only as males. A demon creates a plague that kills most of the women of child bearing age, but one of the side effects is that the men who are born hermaphrodites catch the plague and become fully functional as females, without really changing their outward appearance. In order to keep the population from dropping dangerously the government decides that all the newly functional "breeders" must have a male partner and give birth to at least one child.

Thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the lovely beta on the story and all the great advice.

Dean sat on the floor of the nursery watching as Sam leaned back in the padded high-backed chair beside the crib. David snuggled contentedly against his mother's chest; mouth a pink bow sucking lazily at a nipple. Sam gently pulled the baby back, and he uttered an incensed squawk. With a frown Sam lifted David to his breast again, watching as his heavy-lidded eyes slipped closed. Finally, David's mouth fell away from his abused flesh and Sam sighed. Gently he laid the baby down in the crib turning on the musical mobile.

Dean stood brushing off the seat of his jeans as Sam settled in the chair and began expressing breast milk into a container. Seating himself on the arm of the chair the older man watched then cocked his head.

"Why do you do that? Dad doesn't do it when he feeds Beth?"

"Dad doesn't have too, Beth eats like a piranha. Our little angel is a fussy eater. If I don't empty both breasts it'll cut down on the amount of milk for the next feeding."

"Huh, that's interesting." Dean flushed, "Can I…uhmmm, I kind of saw Dad do something for Bobby. I mean I wasn't trying to you know…" Dean blushed.

Sam smiled leaning back. He knew what Dean was asking for in his round-about way. He was sure that Bobby had wanted the same thing and would have been surprised if his Dad hadn't asked their Mom too, although he'd die before asking him. He patted his knee spreading his legs and Dean dropped to the ground between Sam's thighs. Sam ran his fingers through Dean's hair, ruffling it a little and laughing when the other man pulled back.

"Come on, lean in here."

Dean slid his hands up Sam's thighs then grasped his waist. Leaning forward he kissed Sam's throat then his collarbone before dropping his mouth to his lover's tit. His lips fastened on the brown nub gently teasing it hard. The warm sweet liquid that touched his tongue sent a shiver down his spine. Dean closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, the soft scent of Sam's warm body washing over him. He suckled a few minutes longer then slipped his hands to Sam's pajama bottoms, pulling the drawstring, letting the pants fall open until he could slid his fingers around his brother's cock. Sam was hard already, dripping pre-come and Dean dropped his head from Sam's chest to his dick. Flicking his tongue over the spongy crown, Dean worked the head of Sam's cock until a fresh gout of clear liquid painted his lips and tongue.

Breath hitching Sam slid his hands around Dean's shoulders rubbing the taut, hard muscles beneath the thin material of his t-shirt. Dean groaned dropping one hand from Sam's waist to his own zipper. Sam jerked at the sound of the teeth sliding apart. With one hand on his own cock Dean sucked Sam until the younger man was squirming around in the chair.

"Sssh, don't wake the baby," Dean hissed laughing.

Sam smacked him on the back of the head.

"If you take your mouth off my dick one more time, I'll kill you."

"Oooh, pushy bitch," Dean snickered, but he swallowed Sam down, and the younger man jerked in the chair.

Groaning Sam pushed his hips up and shooting into Dean's mouth. Dean titled his head back tugging his own cock once more grunted as he spilled his seed over his hand.

He thumped down onto the floor and Sam cast a harried glance at the crib.

"Dean, I swear if you wake him up you can just sit up with him."

"He's fine," Dean hissed quietly, "Come on, let's get some sleep before his next feeding."

Dean stood in the parking lot beside their apartment staring at the rear door of the Impala. His gaze rested on the huge, blue fabric and gray plastic monstrosity marring his muscle car's rear seat. The baby carrier was fastened snuggly in the middle of the seat, belted and double belted by the bungee cords Sam had run from an eyehook mounted on each seatbelt buckle. Dean sighed. There was no use in fighting it; he was respectable member of the community now. No self-respecting demon hunter would have a Graco Infant Seat in his means of transportation. If Sammy didn't give up hinting that maybe they should buy another car he was going to cry.

Sam appeared with the baby and diaper bag. Dean took the bag dropping it on the floor as Sam fastened David into the car-seat. The baby grumbled loudly then began to wail. Dean pulled a pacifier out of the bag and plopped it into his mouth. David shifted it back and forth a few times as if it were a cigar then quieted.

Sam slid into the car waving Dean around to the driver's side.

"Come on, Bobby said he needed to talk to us right away."

They pulled into the driveway of the house, and saw Bobby sitting on the front porch holding Beth in his arms. He looked a little ragged around the edges and Dean glanced around looking for their father. Sam was busy getting David out of the car seat when Dean noticed that their father's truck was gone.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean said walking over to the house.

He took Beth from her father bouncing her up and down. She fussed, alternating between snuffling and chewing on her fist. Bobby looked at her.

"I've been trying to get her take a bottle for the past hour. She just won't do it."

"Where's Dad?"

"He's gone…" Bobby said rubbing his eyes.

Dean's face paled. But the older man held up a hand.

"No, not like that. Last night I thought he was going to go. But I guess he talked himself out of it. He just needed a break from the baby for a little while, so he went into town. I thought I was ready for it. But this little girl loves her mama."

Dean grinned.

"Jealous?"

Bobby huffed.

"Of course not, it's natural for a baby to be more bonded to its mother. Okay, it pisses the hell out of me. What am I doing wrong? She cries damn near any time I hold her."

Sam grinned.

"You're tensing up when you hold her. Just try to relax, she can feel that you're uncomfortable and it makes her uncomfortable too."

Bobby sighed, but before he could say anything the sound of an engine filled the air.

They looked up as the truck bounced down the driveway, and rolled to a halt beside the Impala. John climbed out and walked over, taking his daughter from Dean.

"How are you boys doing?"

John settled on the bench beside Bobby to nurse Beth. Bobby leaned back sliding his arm onto the back of the bench behind John's back, leaning his chin on his lover's shoulder watching as his little girl suckled contentedly at her mother's breast.

Beth and David were five months old when John first mentioned the demon again. The boys and David were over at John and Bobby's house for dinner one Saturday night when John pushed his chair back and looked his sons in the face. Dean could tell this was going to be a discussion that they didn't want to have, and was sure it was going to end in a screamfest between John and Sam. Bobby looked like he was ready for the shit to hit the fan as well.

"I know that we've been running on autopilot these last five months since the babies were born, but we have to deal with the fact that in less than four weeks David and Beth are both going to be six months old." He held up a hand to forestall the protest he could already see brewing on his younger son's face. "Please Sam just hear me out this time. I won't bring it up again. And this is why I was so against you and Dean getting a place of your own right away. We have the Colt, but we only have the one gun. We know that the gun can kill the demon, not dissipate it, not send it back to Hell but destroy it. And we know that the demon comes after kids on the day they turn six months old. I think that this bastard missed his chance with Sammy, and I think he'll come after one of these two babies to make up for it."

Dean nodded, he could see where his Dad was going with this and it seemed reasonable to him. Sam was looking less enthusiastic but he couldn't argue, John had a valid point.

Bobby nodded picking up the argument.

"All we're asking is that the day and night that David and Beth turn six months old you stay here at the house with us. It's just one night and we can wait and see if the demon turns up. And I agree with John, I think he will show. If you're at your place and we're here, well the gun can't be in two places at one time."

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean stopped him.

"I think Dad and Bobby are right. We can combine forces, all of us wait here. Watch each other's backs. We know that he'll come for one of the kids. If we took the gun and he came for Beth how do you think we'd feel?"

Sam sighed, he couldn't disagree with one thing that any of them had said.

"Okay, we'll bring David here. But if we get the demon, if this is laid to rest, I want out. No more hunting not for me and not for Dean. Do you get it, Dad?"

John frowned, his face flushing, but he nodded.

"No more hunting, I've already promised that if we get this demon, I'll give it up. Bobby and I intend to research and supply hunters from the house. We've already let the others know."

Three weeks later Sam and Dean were seated at the table at John and Bobby's; the two babies were asleep in Beth's room. John was finishing his third cup of coffee under Bobby's disapproving eyes.

"John-boy, you'd better go easy on that stuff or you'll be up all night peeing. And I plan of getting some sleep tonight."

John shot him a dirty glance and finished off the mug. Sam and Dean looked at each other, none of them would probably be getting any sleep that night, and they all knew it.

Sam was leaning over the crib tucking the blankets around both babies when he looked up at the wall. The lamp on the dresser flickered on. Sam held his breath. If it was the demon the lights would…Suddenly the lamp flared brighter and then dimmed. Sam turned trying to run for the door when he found himself slammed against the wall.

A dark form rose up beside the window, eyes flashing amber in the dim light. Sam gasped, breath gurgling in his throat. He flailed his arms, reaching out for the crib, but the demon held him against the wall. Slowly Sam's body began to ascend to the ceiling. With a desperate moan Sam focused his thoughts. The lamp on the dresser rocked then flew across the room shattering against the plaster.

In the other room John shot to his feet.

"The lamp in the nursery broke, I heard it. Something's wrong."

Before Bobby could stop him John ran from the room, and disappeared down the hall. He slid into the nursery just as Sam was jerked back against the wall. The dark shape beside the crib whirled as John sprang into the room. John was thrown back, slamming his head against the wall. His body slipped a few inches then hung limply in the air. He moaned, but found himself unable to move or call out.

With a sneer the demon reached out for the babies in the crib. The nursery door swung back and Bobby stormed in shot-gun raised. He let both barrels go into the black shape and the rock salt packed shells ripped at the demon. Roaring he fell back and Sam's body dropped heavily to the floor. The demon moved away from the crib, stalking toward the man with the gun. Raising a hand he swiped Bobby off his feet.

The floor creaked and Bobby jerked as the demon slammed him against the wall. Turning the demon snarled staring down the barrel of the gun in Dean's hand. With a grin he licked his lips.

"Your friend tried that. When are you going to learn there is nothing that you can do to me that I cannot do to you? I'll just kill you all."

The shot gun rose up out of the floor, floating effortlessly to the demon's hands. Dean cocked his head.

"Not tonight."

The gun shot rang out and the bullet hit the demon in the forehead. His eyes widened and he shrieked. The wind whipped through the room, slamming the furniture around and ripping the pictures off the walls. The crib swung and rocked causing both babies inside to wail in terror. Sam managed to drag himself to his feet making a grab for the bed. Bobby stumbled forward and together the two men caught the crib holding it steady against the whirlwind.

Finally, the maelstrom ended and the room was still. Sam staggered to the crib picking up David, and Bobby caught his daughter up holding her against the chest. Her screams faded to snuffling as Bobby carried her over to where John was sitting in the floor. Dean carefully bent down getting an arm under his Dad's shoulder and hauling him upright.

The room was trashed but the four men stood in silence grateful that it was all over. This demon, the demon was gone, killed by the Colt that John had kept hidden in the closet in the bedroom, in his old black duffle bag.

Dean sat on the porch of the house looking as his son and his little sister toddled around the yard. Both babies had just learned to walk and they were all but inseparable when they were at the house together. Dean and Sam had been coming over almost every night because David asked for Beth constantly. At eighteen months the two were into everything, and the four men were exhausted by their adventurous toddlers' constant exploration.

Bobby sat on the step watching as his daughter rooted around in the dirt. Sam glowered at the older man.

"Bobby, you better not let her ruin that dress. Dad will have a fit if he comes home and she's dirty."

Bobby waved him off.

"I'm not afraid of big, bad John."

He glanced around to see if the truck was in the driveway before he said it, Sam noticed and grinned. Bobby winced.

"Okay, maybe I'm not too afraid of big, bad John."

The truck appeared at the end of the road and Sam and Bobby gathered the babies up. When John climbed out of the truck Beth wriggled out of her father's arms and ran to John.

"Mommy, up up."

John swung her up into his arms. Leaning over he grinned at Bobby.

"Hi, boys, glad you came over. I think the old man is going to fire up the barbeque."

Bobby sniffed.

"I suppose by old man you mean me?"

John shrugged.

"You all complain when I man the grill."

Dean grunted.

"That's because you don't seem to know the difference between grilling steaks and cremating them."

As they sat around the table finishing off the last of the meal, John casually glanced up at his lover.

"Oh by the way, Bobby I think we better seriously reconsider adding on another room to the house."

Sam held up a hand.

"Dad, me and Dean are not coming back to live here. You don't need to add on for us."

John grinned.

"It's not for you. As much as I love you and your brother and David. You have a life on your own now. It's for the baby."

Bobby frowned.

"John, Elizabeth has her own room."

John shook his head.

"Not that baby."

He stood taking Bobby's hand and pressing it against his belly.

"This one."

**Epilogue**

Dean stood at the doorway of the old house. He watched as several cars pulled off the main road one after another. He knew that the blue Buick sedan was David's car. He smiled at the fancy chrome and metallic paint, but it was still a far cry from the old Impala. Dean chuckled; he and Sam had the old girl in the garage, up on blocks. She'd blown a rod twenty-five years ago and never been fixed. He glanced at Sam sitting on the old wooden porch swing that Dad and Bobby had put in after Beth and David had been born.

The three cars rolled to a halt one after another, Dean stepped off the porch going to greet his son and daughter-in-law. Helen hopped out smiling brightly as the back doors swung open and Ashley, Justin and Tina came bounding out of the car scrabbling to see who could be the first to Grandpa Dean's side.

David strolled to his father at a more dignified pace hugging the older man.

"Where's Mom and Papa John?"

Ashley perked up at the mention of her great-grandfather's name.

"Yeah, Granddad where's Papa John?"

Grinning Dean scooped his youngest grand-daughter up.

"I think you love Papa John more than you love Grandpa baby-girl."

"I'm not a baby Granddad, I'm five years old."

Sam appeared at the door smiling as he loped down the stairs and hugged his son and daughter-in-law one in each arm. David smiled as the twins scurried around him and grabbed his mother by the legs.

"Grandma Sam," they shrieked.

By that time Beth and her husband Paul had walked over with their two little girls in tow. Dean kissed his younger sister on the cheek, and shook hands with her husband, the two men had never gotten along, but for John's sake they were keeping the animosity to a minimum. The last six months had been hard on Papa John, and everyone knew it.

Finally, Rebecca and her fiancé, Steve, made it to the porch, Steve's son, Chris, on their heels. Chris was twelve and the oldest of the grand children, and even though Rebecca wasn't his mother, she loved him dearly.

Becky hugged her older siblings then glanced around the yard.

"Is Mom here?"

Sometimes it seem odd to Dean to hear John referred to as Mom, but John was Beth and Becky's mother. His youngest sister was turning twenty-eight tomorrow, the same age he had been when all this started. Chris gave Dean a one-armed squeeze, his tough guy equivalent to a hug and looked expectantly at the porch.

"Uncle Dean, where is Papa John?"

"He's out in the back yard, sitting on his bench. Why don't you kids go out and talk to him?"

All of the kids gasped almost in unison and Ashley looked at Dean gravely.

"Grandpa Dean, you know Papa John doesn't talk anymore, not since…" she paused looking over her shoulder at her mother and father."Not since Grandpa Bobby went to heaven."

Dean winced.

"Well maybe he will today. You know he loves having all you kids around. And it is Becky's birthday tomorrow."

Sam sighed, ushering all the kids and grandkids inside.

"Do you think having them all here at one time will help?"

Dean shrugged.

"I don't know."

While Sam and the others talked in the living room Dean wandered to the kitchen door looking out at the figure huddled on a wooden bench just under the shade of an old oak tree beside the garage. He cringed; this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Big, bad John Winchester was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory not in this crippled silence, bent and gray and old. Well, he'd send the kids out a bit later; let them work their magic on Papa John.

John was almost dozing on the bench, the sunlight warm on his gnarled hands. Too many years of fighting and shooting had left his hands arthritic and painful most of the time now. He sighed a little looking as the patch of dappled light sparkling on the wet grass. He knew that the others were here, even at eighty-two his hearing was fine. The rest of him maybe falling apart but he could still hear and see damn well.

So the glimmer of light on a car coming, not down the driveway, but across the grassy yard startled him. The purr of the big engine whining the way no modern hybrid car ever could. He shook his head, stretching his back a little so that he could lean forward and get a better look at the damn fool who was tearing up his landscaping.

The car was big, gleaming black, shimmering faintly as it slid to halt not three feet from where he sat. John jerked a little but he didn't move. Then a figure stepped out of the car.

He was tall, straight and broad-shouldered with brown hair pulled back into a pony-tail sticking out from under his old ball cap. With a smug grin he stepped forward and John's breath caught in his chest.

"Bobby," John whispered.

Dean looked up when he heard his father call out that name. The one that had been banned from all speech by anyone in the house since…well, since January.

Bobby's bluff good-natured face broke into a hell-bent grin.

"John-boy, you're a sight for sore eyes."

"But you left me, you're …"

"I've missed you awful, baby. But its okay now," Bobby said squatting down beside the bench, his big, warm hand resting on John's thigh.

John's head bent down and he raised his hand trying to push the other man away. Bobby grinned.

"Don't be like that, baby. I would have stayed if I could."

"What do you want, anyway? Look at you. God you haven't had enough hair for pony-tail for twenty years."

"Look at me baby."

John looked into the other man's earnest blue eyes. Bobby looked like he had the day that a younger John Winchester had stumbled onto his doorstep, torn and bleeding. The first day he had ever met the man he would learn to love. John reached out trying to touch Bobby's face. His skin was firm, tanned, with just a hint of sunburn on the nose and cheeks, his brown hair just beginning to go gray at the temples.

"You look just like you did the first time I ever saw you."

"I know, I thought that it would be easier for you if I did. It's time, baby. We need you on this side now."

"This side?" John asked cocking his head, and Bobby smiled settled on the bench beside his friend and lover.

"Yeah. Hunters live in the shadows, in between good and bad. And in the end, when its time for us to go, some of us anyway, we've traveled just a shade too far in the dark side for the white light. So we end up in-between here too. But it's okay 'cause there's a lot we can hunt on this side and make sure it never gets to the other side. I've been hunting John, but I sure want you by my side again."

John looked at him.

"I'd like that, Bobby. You and me together."

Bobby stood up moving to the car, and for the first time John took a good long look at it. He smiled. The old Impala looked like she'd just rolled off the assembly line in some good old Detroit factory. John grinned and Bobby held up a hand.

There was a moment of disorientation as John stood. He blinked expecting his knees to give and was surprised when he bounded forward in a few easy strides. Bobby held his hand out again and John slid into his arms. Bobby's chest was firm, warm and hard against him and John took a minute to breath in his lover's warm, clean scent.

Bobby tilted John's head back and covered his mouth with a kiss. Groaning, John slid his arms around Bobby molding himself against the strong body. When they broke apart John looked at himself in the side mirror. He gasped, the lines and seams in his face were virtually gone, his hair was solid brown, falling over his forehead like he was forty again. If Bobby looked like he had when John had first met him, then John judged he looked the same to the other man.

He turned around in Bobby's arms looking at the hunched, gray-haired figure slumped on the bench.

"It's going to hurt them."

Bobby nodded.

"Yeah, it'll hurt for a time, but it'll get better."

"It never did for me. Not after January."

Bobby shook him a little.

"And I felt like slapping you a good one for that too Johnny."

"Can we wait for a little while, just until they find out?" John asked, and the other man nodded.

"Dean's been watching you for a good long time, he'll be out directly. But then we got to go, John. We've got work to do, and miles to go before we sleep. But first I think I'll slide you into the backseat, and let you know just how much I've missed you."

John's eyes widened.

"You don't mean that we can… But not here in the yard, not with the kids and grandkids all around."

"Johnny, the boys have been around us long enough to know that if the car is a rocking, you don't come a knocking. Besides they can't see us. Not like we can see them. Now Sam, maybe he might get an eyeful, but he won't."

John straightened.

"Dean's coming. God, I hope that one of the little ones isn't with him."

"Nope he's alone."

Dean walked to the bench his father was slumped down on, and he frowned. John slept too much for his liking. He was used to the man who had boundless energy even now. Except since Bobby had passed, his Dad just wasn't interested in anything. Reaching out Dean shook John's shoulder gently.

"Dad," he said. "Beth and Becky and the rest are all here. Dad?"

Dean frowned dropping down on the bench. He touched the leathery tanned skin.

"Well, hell, Dad."

Sitting quietly Dean took John's hand in his. They sat there awhile until Sam came out to stand behind his brother.

"Dean, you and Dad need…"

Dean turned to face Sam unshed tears shimmering in his eyes. Sam gasped.

"Dean, we've got to call an ambulance, someone."

Shaking his head Dean patted the other side of the bench and Sam sat down.

"I'm just going to sit here a little while longer. You can go call."

But Sam leaned back pressing his shoulder against Dean's watching the wind ruffle his hair. Suddenly he frowned, and looked across the yard, cocking his head. Dean was long used to Sam's psychic incidents.

"Something wrong?"

The younger man shrugged.

"For a minute I thought I heard the Impala's engine. It hasn't run in years, but I'll never forget the sound."

Dean grinned.

"Yeah, there's something about good old fashioned Detroit steel. Well, at least they're on the road again."

Sam smiled.

"Yeah, together."

The End.


End file.
